[Latin] allows you to adore words, take them apart and find out where they came from.
For a host, above all, must be kind to his guests.
If I went in debt a million dollars every time I committed genocide, I'd be our economy.
You are you. Now, isn't that unpleasant?
Not here not there not anywhere!
It has often been said there’s so much to be read, you never can cram all those words in your head.
The words in this book are all phooey. When you say them, your lips will make slips and back flips and your tongue may end up in Saint Looey!
He took the Who’s feast, he took the Who pudding, he took the roast beast. He cleaned out that ice box as quick as a flash. Why, the Grinch even took their last can of Who hash.
Preachers in pulpits talked about what a great message is in the book. No matter what you do, somebody always imputes meaning into your books.
It has often been said there’s so much to be read, you never can cram all those words in your head. So the writer who breeds more words than he needs is making a chore for the reader who reads. That's why my belief is the briefer the brief is, the greater the sigh of the reader's relief is. And that's why your books have such power and strength. You publish with shorth! (Shorth is better than length.)
Shorth is better than length.
Big Z, little Z, what begins with Z? I do. I'm a zizzer zazzer zuzz, as you can plainly see.
I get all my ideas in Switzerland near the Forka Pass. There is a little town called Gletch, and two thousand feet up above Gletch there is a smaller hamlet called Über Gletch. I go there on the fourth of August every summer to get my cuckoo clock fixed. While the cuckoo is in the hospital, I wander around and talk to the people in the streets. They are very strange people, and I get my ideas from them.
You make 'em, I amuse 'em. [children]
Horton, the kangaroo has sent Vlad!' Vlad? I know two Vlads. One is a cute little bunny that brings me cookies. The other is bad Vlad. Which Vlad?' Which one do you think?' Bad Vlad?' Good call.
This book is to be read in bed.
I box in yellow Gox box socks.
I don't like audiences, I prefer my mistakes in private.
The ribbons! The wrappings! The tags! And the tinsel! The trimmings! The trappings!
And what would you do if you met a jibboo?
I am the Lorax! I speak for the trees, Which you seem to be chopping as fast as you please; But I also speak for the brown Barbaloots, Who frolicked and played in their Barbaloot suits, Happily eating Truffula fruits. Now, since you've chopped the trees to the ground There's not enough Truffula fruit to go 'round! And my poor Barbaloots are all feeling the crummies Because they have gas, and no food, in their tummies.
The problem with writing a book in verse is, to be successful, it has to sound like you knocked it off on a rainy Friday afternoon. It has to sound easy. When you can do it, it helps tremendously because it's a thing that forces kids to read on. You have this unconsummated feeling if you stop.
Day Play We play all day. Night Fight We fight all night.
You can't build a substantial V out of turtles!
Too different from other juveniles on the market to warrant its selling.
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