Sid Waddell Quotes

It's not easy to shout against real elements. The elements are big, and the human voice is very small.

You know, I think I did originally have some sort of idea of maybe a Where Eagles Dare kind of mission against impossible odds, but it really sort of died before I had a chance to really go anywhere with it, and then just doing the book was out of the question.

One man won't make a difference against sixty.

June suns, you cannot store them To warm the winter's cold, The lad that hopes for heaven Shall fill his mouth with mould.

There is no use in your walking five miles to fish when you can depend on being just as unsuccessful near home.

It is useless attacking the insensible.

No matter how much you keep encouraging someone who is blindfolded to stare through the cloth, he still won’t see a thing.".

If you beat your head against the wall, it is your head that breaks and not the wall.

Sometimes there's just no way to hold back the river.

It was like trying to bail out an ocean of water with a teaspoon.

Or have I passed my time in pouring words like water into empty sieves, rolling a stone up a hill and then down again, trying to prove an argument in the teeth of facts, and looking for causes in the dark, and not finding them?

I'd rather not deal with such questions, because anyway it's like shearing a pig - lots of screams but little wool.

When we fight upstream against a rocky undercurrent, every foothold takes on a kind of urgency.

We didn't have time to go tobogganing, because we didn't have the toboggan.

And if you find everything as soon as you look for it, you find it in vain, you look for it in vain.

Only a fool tries to reconstruct a bunch of grapes from a bottle of wine.

Fighting for peace is like screwing for virginity.

It is very foolish of a man to be frightened of a skeleton, for Nature has put an insurmountable obstacle against running away from it.

Suppose you succeed in breaking the wall with your head. And what, then, will you do in the next cell?

Writing imaginative tales for the young is like sending coals to Newcastle. For coals.

None of us would choose to be Sisyphus; yet in a sense, we all are.

'Yea and I beheld Sisyphus in strong torment, grasping a monstrous stone with both his hands. He was pressing thereat with hands and feet, and trying to roll the stone upward toward the brow of the hill. But oft as he was about to hurl it over the top, the weight would drive him back, so once again to the plain rolled the stone, the shameless thing. And he once more kept heaving and straining, and the sweat the while was pouring down his limbs, and the dust rose upwards from his head.

Does not the latent feeling that much of their striving is to no purpose tend to infuse large quantities of sham into men's work?