Saturday, September 5, 2015

You have to believe in happiness

“You have to believe in happiness,
Or happiness never comes.
I know that a bird chirps none the less
When all that he finds is crumbs.

You have to believe the buds will blow,
Believe in the grass in the days of snow.
Ah, that’s the reason a bird can sing,
On his darkest day he believes in Spring.

You have to believe in happiness—
It isn’t an outward thing.
The Spring never makes the song, I guess,
As much as the song the Spring.

Aye, many a heart could find content
If it saw the joy on the road it went,
The joy ahead when it had to grieve,
For the joy is there—but you have to believe.”

—Douglas Malloch (1877–1938)

My mom had memorized this poem as a child and can still recite it to this day. We were talking memories recently, and that's how I came to know about it. After looking up to find the original source, I am a bit hesitant to quote, showcase, or celebrate this author because of his involvement with and poetic tributes to the lumbering industry; however, that time has passed and a good poem is a good poem. May the birds of happiness forever have a tree to chirp from!

The image and poem are both from the same time period, approximately 1928. My mom grew up in the 1950s, so clearly it was still in circulation around then, although it seems to have dropped off since the mid-'60s.

Birds of Happiness
image: TuckDB Ephemera [modified t.g.]

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

She is too fond of books

“In the attic Christie was discovered lying dressed upon her bed, asleep or suffocated by the smoke that filled the room. A book had slipped from her hand, and in falling had upset the candle on a chair beside her.... ‘I forbade her to keep the gas lighted so late, and see what the deceitful creature has done with her private candle!’ cried Mrs. Stuart.... ‘Look at her!... She has been at the wine, or lost her wits.... She is too fond of books, and it has turned her brain.’”

—Louisa May Alcott, “Servant,” Work: A Story of Experience, 1873 (pp. 31–33)

Louisa May Alcott
Louisa May Alcott (1832–1888)
public domain image modified with Aviary

Monday, July 6, 2015

To be new while repeating the old...

“In poetry and in eloquence the beautiful and grand must spring from the commonplace.... All that remains for us is to be new while repeating the old, and to be ourselves in becoming the echo of the whole world.” ~Alexandre Vinet (1797–1847)

Alexandre Vinet (1797–1847) photo Université de Lausanne Archive, modified by Terri Guillemets
Alexandre Vinet (1797–1847)
Université de Lausanne Archive
[modified t.g.]

Sunday, July 5, 2015

Thus danced Nietzsche

“I desire to have goblins round me, for I am brave. Courage that dispelleth ghosts createth goblins for itself,—courage desireth to laugh....

Which of you can at the same time laugh and be exalted?

He who strideth across the highest mountains laugheth at all tragedies whether of the stage or of life....

Ye say unto me: ‘Life is hard to bear.’ But for what purpose have ye got in the morning your pride and in the evening your submission?

Life is hard to bear. But do not pretend to be so frail! We are all good he-asses and she-asses of burden.

What have we in common with the rose-bud that trembleth because a drop of dew lieth on its body?

It is true: we love life, not because we are accustomed to life, but because we are accustomed to love.

There is always a madness in love. There is however also always a reason in madness.

Friedrich Nietzsche c.1869 (Goethe- und Schiller-Archiv, modified TG)
And to my thinking as a lover of life, butterflies, soap-bubbles, and whatever is of their kind among men, know most of happiness.

To see these light, foolish, delicate, mobile little souls flitting about—that moveth Zarathustra to tears and to song.

I could believe only in a God who would know how to dance.

And when I saw my devil, I found him earnest, thorough, deep, solemn: he was the spirit of gravity,—through him all things fall.

Not through wrath but through laughter one slayeth. Arise! let us slay the spirit of gravity!

I learned to walk: now I let myself run. I learned to fly: now I need no pushing to move me from the spot.

Now I am light, now I fly, now I see myself beneath myself, now a God danceth through me.”

Thus spake Zarathustra.

—Friedrich Nietzsche (1844–1900), “Of Reading and Writing,” Thus Spake Zarathustra: A Book for All and None, translated from the German by Alexander Tille, 1896

{photo: Friedrich Nietzsche, c.1869; public domain; courtesy Klassik Stiftung Weimar/Goethe- und Schiller-Archiv; modified 2015 by Terri Guillemets}

Thursday, July 2, 2015

A simple definition of life

Robert Brault "a simple definition of life" photo quote

A simple definition of life:
The chance you’ve been waiting for.”
—Robert Brault—

Thursday, June 25, 2015

And be a friend to man...

The House by the Side of the Road

“He was a friend to man, and lived in a house by the side of the road.” —Homer

There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
    In the peace of their self-content;
There are souls, like stars, that dwell apart,
    In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths
    Where highways never ran;—
But let me live by the side of the road
    And be a friend to man.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
    Where the race of men go by—
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
    As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat,
    Or hurl the cynic's ban;—
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
    And be a friend to man.

I see from my house by the side of the road,
    By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
    The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears—
    Both parts of an infinite plan;—
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
    And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead
    And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
    And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travellers rejoice,
    And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
    Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my house by the side of the road
    Where the race of men go by—
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
    Wise, foolish—so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat
    Or hurl the cynic's ban?—
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
    And be a friend to man.

—Sam Walter Foss (1858–1911), “The House by the Side of the Road,” c.1896, originally published in The Independent then later in Foss’ own collection titled Dreams in Homespun, in 1897. According to The Alumnæ News of The Normal College, City of New York, September 1897, the sentiments of this poem were inspired by the Roadside Settlement in Des Moines, Iowa. The wording was inspired by Homer, as seen in the quotation preface to this beautiful poem. I’m not the best of Greek scholars, but I believe the excerpt would be:
          Axylus: in Arisba fair he dwelt
          With riches blest, near to the public way
          His dwelling: thus a general friend to man
          He lov’d them all, and all their wants reliev’d...
And as if Foss' poetry weren't enough to give me joy, get this — he was also a librarian! {swoon}

Sam Walter Foss
Sam Walter Foss (1858–1911)
photo modified from "A Poet of the Common Life:
Editorial Sketch of Sam Walter Foss,"
The Coming Age, October 1899

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

There's a quotemark in my lunch!

What a quotatious day I had. First there was lunch at a salad buffet where my radishes were shaped like quotation marks or speech bubbles! And after work I settled down for a half-hour's distraction by watching—quite serendipitously—an episode of The Middle (S3,E6) in which Brick repeatedly quotes Shakespeare. Ahhh, some days are just better than others.

Quote radish!

Quote radish in my salad!

“I do remember him... like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring. When ’a was naked, he was for all the world like a fork’d radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife.” ~William Shakespeare, Henry IV, Part II [III, 2, Falstaff]

“My salad days,
When I was green in judgment: cold in blood,
To say as I said then! But, come, away;
Get me ink and paper...”
~William Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra [I, 5, Cleopatra]

“’Twas a good lady, ’twas a good lady: we may pick a thousand salads ere we light on such another herb.” ~William Shakespeare, All's Well That Ends Well [IV, 5, Lafeu]

And, get this. As if life couldn't get much sweeter, while trying to find an appropriate quotation for this blog entry I happened upon a book from the 1800s The Plant-lore and Garden-craft of Shakespeare by H.N. Ellacombe in which the quotes are all related to gardening, plants, and flowers. What a find!

Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Introducing Gertrude Tooley Buckingham

A few months ago I began posting to The Quote Garden excerpts from the poetry of Gertrude Tooley Buckingham. Before I did, I researched to see what was already out there on the Web. There is not a single website featuring her poetry or biographical information. The only items are a no‑preview entry for her 1948 book Poems at Random in Google Books and a poem in a few local New York newspapers from the mid-1900s on There is no mention of her, that I can find online, since the 1960s.

Ms Buckingham was a friend of my family from a few generations ago in New York. My parents inherited an inscribed copy of Poems at Random when my grandmother passed away about eight years ago, but I had not heard of her until then. I was also fortunate enough to receive several unpublished poems, both typewritten and handwritten, as well as some journal entries.

I am attempting to locate any surviving family for permissions as well as more complete biographical information and photographs. In the meantime, I’d like to share what I do know for those of you who are interested.

Gertrude was born on June 26th 1880. I’m assuming that her maiden name was Tooley and that she was an only child, to very loving and hard-working parents. When she was 17 she studied for one year at the Conservatory of Music in Detroit while staying at the home of her cousin. She and her husband were both engaged to other people when they fell in love. She married Samuel L. Buckingham (birth c.1875) on October 21st 1903. They had two daughters, Doris (c.1910) and Lorraine (c.1913). All were born in New York, and they lived on Northern Avenue which in 1938 was renamed to Cabrini Boulevard. Gertrude’s special interest was music, Sam liked sports and games, and Lorraine was a secretary at a bank. Gertrude and Sam had three grandchildren: two girls and a boy.

Around 1939, the family sustained a great loss when Doris was taken from them through an accident. A few months later, Gertrude received from Spirit the gift of poetic talent. She became what we could call a medium poet, as she heard the words spoken in her head and saw them pass in front of her eyes, sensing what she was to write. She was about age sixty at the time. Poems at Random is dedicated to Doris. See photos below.

Gertrude, a homemaker, and Sam, an undertaker, were married for 54 years before he passed away. She refers to them in her journal as soul mates, and six years after his death writes “My great love for Sam will never die as I’m sure his love for me will always live.” I know that Gertrude lived until at least 1964, but I’m not sure how long after that.

Here are the names with which she is associated: Gertrude Tooley Buckingham, Gertrude A. Buckingham, Gertrude T. Buckingham, Gertrude Buckingham, Gertrude A. Tooley, Gertrude Tooley, Mrs. Sam Buckingham, Mrs. Samuel Buckingham, Mrs. Sam (Gertrude) Buckingham, and Gertie Buckingham.

I am hopeful that her family will be receptive to my posting of Gertrude’s lovely words on The Quote Garden and that they will be pleased knowing that her writing can live on, along with the memory of beautiful Doris and all the family as well.

Poems at Random, 1948, by Gertrude Tooley Buckingham
Poems at Random, 1948,
by Gertrude Tooley Buckingham

Inscription in Poems at Random book, by Gertrude Buckingham, 1948
Inscription in Poems at Random
by Gertrude Buckingham, 1948

Doris Buckingham dedication in Poems at Random by Gertrude Tooley Buckingham, published 1948
Doris Buckingham dedication in Poems at Random
by Gertrude Tooley Buckingham, published 1948

“[M]y prayer is that many of the poems in this book may help to bring joy and peace and understanding to those souls who may be grieving for loved ones whom they call ‘dead’ but who, in reality, are still living in a real world of beauty, being able to manifest to their dear ones of earth when the door is opened for them to come in.” ~Gertrude Tooley Buckingham, “Preface,” Poems at Random, 1948

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

You got it right, Mr Katz

A prediction about quotes from 16 years ago — back when quotation sites on the Web were few and the modern option was using collections on CD‑ROM — has come true. How exciting the possibilities for and realities of sharing brilliant words on the internet, and at the same time how sad that we are more and more abandoning real books! Coincidentally, the year this book was published was the same year I put The Quote Garden online. Here is Mr Katz’s forecast:

“The one promise of the digital data base is that eventually all quotations will be available online.... The problems are numerous, from copyright clearance to authentication of quotations, but it is possible, even probable that in a short time it will no longer be necessary to go from quotation book to quotation book in quest of the lost words of a great or near great. A few key words at a computer keyboard will bring the ubiquitous needle in the quotation haystack to the monitor. Obviously more efficient; yet something will be lost. Gone will be the days of the delights of wending through quote after quote, the thoughtful pause, the joy of discovery.” ~Bill Katz, “Commonplace Books to Books of Quotations,” Cuneiform to Computer: A History of Reference Sources, 1998

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Happy poetess Melcena Burns Denny

The Book of Baby Mine was an advertisement-based baby record and advice book first published in 1915, continuing until 1981. It was published by the Baby Mine Company of Grand Rapids, Michigan and the Denny-White Advertising Company of Chicago, Illinois. American companies were offered full-page advertisement space on the first page, and further advertisements could be added to a pocket in the back of the book. They were then distributed to new mothers in that business’ local community, and the publishing and distribution company would supply the advertiser with a certified list of the names and addresses of those who received the book.

The verses and artwork in The Book of Baby Mine were by Melcena Burns Denny (1876–1974). Mrs. Denny was a writer and a happy mother and grandmother. Born in California, she was a graduate of San José State Teachers College and later moved to Seattle with her husband Robert Roy Denny, the first Vice President of Rotary International, who passed away in 1954. She wrote short stories, poems, song lyrics, and plays. Before marriage she wrote under the name L.M. Burns and sold her first story at age 22.

Below is a photo of Mrs. Denny and a few pages from the 1915 version of The Book of Baby Mine, including a poem titled “The Sleepsin Garden” and an illustration of birth stones and birth flowers by month. I am so pleased to revive this poem after its publication a century ago because I’ve searched mightily, and although a single verse of it is quoted (pictorially only) on two websites, in the text of a book from the 1990s and an old 1940s newspaper archived online, in none of those four places is it properly attributed to Melcena Burns Denny. As well, there is scattered and extremely sparse biographical information on the Web. I am honored to now provide the full poem as well as give the proper credit and a more complete bio, in her memory.

Melcena Burns Denny, The Rotarian, June 1973
Melcena Burns Denny, age 96
Photo credit: The Rotarian, June 1973, p.4
 The Book of Baby Mine, 1915

 The Sleepsin Garden, page 1

 The Sleepsin Garden, page 2

 The Sleepsin Garden, page 3

 The Sleepsin Garden, page 4

 The Sleepsin Garden, page 5

“The Sleepsin Garden”
by Melcena Burns Denny
The Book of Baby Mine, 1915

“What fragrant garden of far away,”
I heard the ones who love me say,
“What garden gave its blooms to you?
O blossom-baby, tell us true!”

In the Sleepsin Garden behind the Moon,
That drowsy garden with poppies strewn,
We babies wait till we come to earth,
And the moon flowers shape us for our birth.

The tulip molds our cheek so round,
The sweetpea gives us an ear for sound.
The lily smoothes our forehead fair,
And the milkweed silk is our baby hair.

And long I dreamed in the leafy bower,
My pillow a sweet magnolia flower.
That’s why my neck is waxy and white,
And fragrant and pure for your delight.

I found a bud on a small rose tree,
And loved it to much that it grew to me.
This sweet little trifle you call a nose,
Is really the bud of a little pink rose.

I’ve never really found out yet
Whether brown heart’s-ease or violet
Gave these bright eyes to your little tot,
Or was it the sweet forget-me-not?

I drank my dew in little sips
From wild rose petals: they gave me lips.
Some dew spilled over into my eyes,
And I’m saving it up for future cries.

I wonder what wonderful beautiful flower
Gave me my fingers? I think by the hour.
But my soft little comical playful toes
Are pussy willows, I suppose.

Of course I laugh at “tick-tick, tick-tock,”
For it makes me think of my four-o’clock.
She loved to hold her wee watch to my ear,
In the Sleepsin Garden, for me to hear.

I slept so long in an apple tree,
That the buds made dents all over me.
Dimples, you call them, so pink and small,
If you counted an hour, you couldn’t count all.

One day, laughing, I hid my head
In lily-of-the-valley’s bed.
She whispered, “Not a toothie yet!
I’ll have to blossom for the pet!”

And once I woke from a pansy nap,
And put on a bud for a thinking cap.
The sweet little thoughts that come to me,
The pansies whispered them, you see.

The poppy taught me how to sleep,
The violet taught me how to creep.
The stately lily took my hand,
And breathed, “Come, darling, try to stand!”

But none of the flowers knew how to walk,
And none of them could really talk.
And I longed so much for parents dear,
God gave me a soul and sent me here.

Melcena Burns Denny, 1915, birth stones and birth flowers

As is the generation of leaves

Apparently quotation collecting is genetic. In 2004 (eighteen years after I had already become obsessed with quotes), I found out that my great-grandmother Amy kept a notebook of inspirational quotations. She was born in 1896 and died before I was born. My grandmother found the book and that is how it came to me. Based on the dates of the first items, it appears to be about 100 years old. The first item that is dated is from June 1919, and the last entry with a date is from 1969. I’ve held onto it during these ten years with my old books, but now I’m going to start photographing some of the pages and adding a few of the entries to blog posts, Flickr, and Tumblr. Below is a picture of the notebook as well as one of the handwritten quotes.

My great-grandmother Amy's notebook of inspirational quotations, c.1919
John Ruskin quotation in Amy's notebook

This excerpt is from John Ruskin’s The Seven Lamps of Architecture, “The Lamp of Life,” 1849. The extended quotation is: “But, at all events, one thing we have in our power — the doing without machine ornament and cast-iron work. All the stamped metals, and artificial stones, and imitation woods and bronzes, over the invention of which we hear daily exultation — all the short, and cheap, and easy ways of doing that whose difficulty is its honour — are just so many new obstacles in our already encumbered road. They will not make one of us happier or wiser — they will extend neither the pride of judgment nor the privilege of enjoyment. They will only make us shallower in our understandings, colder in our hearts, and feebler in our wits. And most justly. For we are not sent into this world to do any thing into which we cannot put our hearts. We have certain work to do for our bread, and that is to be done strenuously; other work to do for our delight, and that is to be done heartily: neither is to be done by halves and shifts, but with a will; and what is not worth this effort is not to be done at all.”

Stay tuned for further entries and photographs from Amy’s notebook.

“It is one of natures ways that we often feel closer to distant generations than to the generation immediately preceding us. ~Igor Stravinsky

“As is the generation of leaves, so is that of humanity.
The wind scatters the leaves on the ground, but the live timber
Burgeons with leaves again in the season of spring returning.
So one generation of men will grow while another dies.”

“Fewer and fewer Americans possess objects that have a patina, old furniture, grandparents’ pots and pans, the used things, warm with generations of human touch, essential to a human landscape.  Instead, we have our paper phantoms, transistorized landscapes.  A featherweight portable museum.” ~Susan Sontag

“Some men so dislike the dust kicked up by the generation they belong to, that, being unable to pass, they lag behind it.” ~Augustus William Hare and Julius Charles Hare

Monday, August 4, 2014

Old Sage faux quotes collage

I saw this creative handmade advertisement last autumn in Prescott, Arizona on a bulletin board outside the Old Sage Bookshop. It’s a lovely shop with some awesome old books. Drop by if you ever visit the area, they’re at Whiskey Row. Click photo to enlarge.

Old Sage Bookshop Bulletin Board, Prescott, October 2013

"The wise man reads both books and life itself." ~Lin Yutang

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Quotation videos

My friends make fun of me because I choose to do things the hard way. Well, at least according to them; I think it’s really the easier way, but maybe the truth is more along the lines that I’m a control freak and I don’t usually like shortcuts. And I much prefer the written word over spoken. Video to explain something? No, no! I want to read it, so that I can skim if I want to. And I can’t stand audio books; I need to see the words. Something wonderful happens in my brain when I see the lines and curves of the letters. And I want to form the images myself, in my own mind. I’m what you might call a daydreaming reader.

That is why I was surprised to find that I am actually enjoying these videos called Quotes With Wes, created by Westin Eehn. They are professionally put together, well thought-out, and entertaining as heck. He puts out four videos each week: Motivate Monday, Tickled Tuesday, Wise Wednesday, and Tender Thursday. They’re nice and short, about 2–3 minutes each.

Here’s a link to VidCon 2014 | YouTuber Quotes. He walked around the conference speaking with online video creators asking which quotes inspire them and why. Great stuff. I’ve been meaning to do something like that on my website for years, occasional spotlights on people sharing their favorite quotation and what it means to them. Written, of course, not video. Someday I’ll get around to it.

Check out Wes’ YouTube channel ( for his delightful weekly quotation videos. I’ll tell ya, any guy who holds up quotation marks as part of his opening title is aces with me.

“Maybe our favorite quotations say more about us than about the stories and people we’re quoting.” ~John Green

Monday, June 16, 2014

My book grew a garden

I remember in the mid-1980s doing blackout poetry (as it is now called — also known as found poetry, poetry in prose, or altered prose) with my school friends after learning about it from an English teacher. I’ve been a lover of words for as long as I can remember, but somehow I forgot about that fun hobby over the years. Recently I rediscovered it thanks to this beautiful thing called the world wide web and so I grabbed my old falling-apart 50¢ paperback of The Scarlet Letter and started playing around again with these wordly treasure hunts after nearly three decades. And what a good time I’m having. Here’s a photo of what I ended up with on the first page of Chapter 1; it turned out to be a gardening theme — “Women of happiness rule the soil.”

The problem with blackout poetry is the destruction of books which of course makes me cringe, but I’m intending to leave my books intact and not literally blackout any words so that the books are slowly turned into readable art. Some people make a copy of the page instead of modifying the actual book, which seems like a good idea as well.

This pastime is such a fulfilling creative outlet. To all the authors whose works I end up modifying, I offer sincerest of advance apologies. I will try my darnedest to create new written art without disrespecting your original words (too much).

Saturday, June 7, 2014

Summer afternoon with a book

Sometimes we take for granted wit and wisdom that we can get on the internet free of charge. And sometimes we only remember that when we are holding that wit and wisdom in our own hands, in paper form. The words feel different not only to the touch but to the mind as well. That’s one of the many reasons I’ll be a lifelong lover of books. The most recent book in my collection is Robert Brault’s new Round Up the Usual Subjects: Thoughts on Just about Everything, a 200-page compilation of some great lines spanning many years of his writings. It’s sorted by subject so it’s great not only for general browsing but also to pick up and quickly find an inspiration on whatever topic you’re seeking at the moment (essential for quotation anthologists!). This afternoon it’s coming along with me and some tea and cherries during a break from chores and cleaning.

The book is available for preview and purchase on CreateSpace and Amazon, more information here:

“The ultimate regret is to realize that what you asked of life was never sufficient to make you happy.” ~Robert Brault

Robert Brault book

Monday, June 2, 2014

¡Viva la Oxford comma!

Professional editor Laura Poole
this “serial comma” hand signal.

¡Viva la Oxford comma!

“There are people who embrace the Oxford
comma, and people who don’t, and I’ll just say
this:  never get between these people when
drink has been taken.” —Lynn Truss

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Thursday, April 3, 2014

Grinding us down to a single flat surface (iOS7 quotes)

iOS 7-inspired. Phooey! Flat means boring. Who wants flat champagne. Or a flat personality, or singer. Nobody. “They” say it means simple, clean, clear. Give me my texture back, my depth! Nature is the ultimate in simplicity, yet She is full of texture. Effervescence is life.

The death of skeuomorphism is a reflection of our newfound “simplicity” in life, which seems to me the opposite of simplicity—a glossing over of the beautiful details in life, to make more room in our minds for the irrelevant details that bog us down. What exactly are we replacing our time with, that we save by using txtspeak instead of real words, and what are we losing by transporting ourselves in metal machines over concrete and asphalt to flat office walls, and shopping in shiny supermarkets instead of pulling the vegetables from the land with our own hands, feet in the warm dirt, sun on our faces? We’re losing the Art that is Life.

The decline of design, the decline of society? Have our lives really gone from tapestry to glass? Imagine how quickly Michelangelo could’ve finished the Sistine Chapel ceiling in iOS 7-style. And how speedily we all could pass through a flattened Louvre.

Before I give the impression of a technological malcontent I will stop here and declare that even though I can’t get on board with modern design yet, I am grateful for all the opportunities that technology gives us and all the ways it improves our lives—don’t get me wrong there. But I like shadows with my sun, and big billowy clouds in my sky, and leafy sprawling trees I can hug or climb—not one I’d bump into then slide down like a cartoon character into a glass door. Keep your cloudless mono-blue sky with backlit sunshine, thanks all the same.

“The longer I live, the more I am satisfied of two things: first, that the truest lives are those that are cut rose-diamond-fashion, with many facets answering to the many-planed aspects of the world about them; secondly, that society is always trying in some way or other to grind us down to a single flat surface. It is hard work to resist this grinding-down action.” ~Oliver Wendell Holmes, The Professor at the Breakfast-Table, 1859

“Life just seems so full of connections. Most of the time we don’t even pay attention to the depth of life. We only see flat surfaces.” ~Colin Neenan

“One’s life must seem extremely flat
With nothing whatever to grumble at!”
~W.S. Gilbert, Princess Ida; Or, Castle Adamant, 1884

“I think miracles exist in part as gifts and in part as clues that there is something beyond the flat world we see.” ~Peggy Noonan

“Skeuomorphism isn’t the be-all, end-all of things, but after using it [Apple iOS 7] for 24 hours now, I’m really not a fan of the bland and flat look at all. It feels almost soulless and has none of the personality I’ve loved since the first day I bought my 3G all those years ago.” ~Wayne Hunt, September 2013
, comment at Cult of Mac

“The speed and functionality is great. The look is dull and stupid—and the glaring, bright colors don’t fix that.” ~VirtualVisitor, September 2013
, comment at Cult of Mac about Apple's iOS 7 ("Jony Ive Explains Why He Decided To Gut Skeuomorphism From iOS 7" by Buster Hein)