Garrison Keillor, fully Gary Edward "Garrison" Keillor

Garrison
Keillor, fully Gary Edward "Garrison" Keillor
1942

American Author, Storyteller, Humorist, Essayist and Radio Personality, Creator of Radio’s “A Prairie Home Companion”

Author Quotes

The most un-American thing you can say is, 'You can't say that.

To many Americans, whose only knowledge of the North Star State is that it is intensely cold and populated by Swedes and Holsteins, it will come as a surprise to wake up one morning in 2004 and read in the newspaper, "Half of U.S. Economy Now in Hands of Minnesota".

When the country goes temporarily to the dogs, cats must learn to be circumspect, walk on fences, sleep in trees, and have faith that all this woofing is not the last word.

The party of Lincoln and Liberty was transmogrified into the party of hairy-backed swamp developers and corporate shills, faith-based economists, fundamentalist bullies with Bibles, Christians of convenience, freelance racists, misanthropic frat boys, shrieking midgets of AM radio, tax cheats, nihilists in golf pants, brownshirts in pinstripes, sweatshop tycoons, hacks, fakirs, aggressive dorks, Lamborghini libertarians, people who believe Neil Armstrong's moonwalk was filmed in Roswell, New Mexico, little honkers out to diminish the rest of us, Newt's evil spawn and their Etch-A-Sketch president, a dull and rigid man suspicious of the free flow of information and of secular institutions, whose philosophy is a jumble of badly sutured body parts trying to walk.

To the cheater, there is no such thing as honesty, and to Republicans the idea of serving the public good is counterfeit on the face of it — they never felt such an urge, and therefore it must not exist.

When you wage war on the public schools, you're attacking the mortar that holds the community together. You're not a conservative, you're a vandal.

The priest and the sister were in big trouble when his vest was found in her pantry and her pants were found in his vestry.

Travel is the art form available to Everyman. You sit in the coffee shop in a strange city and nobody knows who you are, or cares, and so you shed your checkered past and your motley credentials and you face the day unarmed ... And onward we go and some day in the distant future, we will stop and turn around in astonishment to see all the places we've been and the heroes we were.

Where I'm from we don't trust paper. Wealth is what's here on the premises. If I open a cupboard and see, say, thirty cans of tomato sauce and a five-pound bag of rice, I get a little thrill of well-being — much more so than if I take a look at the quarterly dividend report from my mutual fund.

The problem with paradise is that it's temporary: You don't belong here and the neighbors are nobody you care to know, so it's only blissful for a week or so.

Vodka is tasteless going down, but it is memorable coming up.

Years ago, manhood was an opportunity for achievement, and now it is a problem to be overcome.

The rich can afford to be progressive. Poor people have reason to be afraid of the future.

We all know you can get AIDS from sex, but did you know that you can get sex from aides?

You don't have to justify a beautiful stroke of good luck. Accept it. Smile and say thank you.

The socially redeeming aspect of golf lies in the vast number of lawyers and bankers and managers who play it, and when you think of the damage they would do if they were at the job instead, you can see why golf courses are a wise investment for any municipality.

We carry adolescence around in our bodies all our lives. We get through the Car Crash Age alive and cruise through our early twenties as cool dudes, wily, dashing, winsome . . . shooting baskets, the breeze, the moon, and then we try to become caring men, good husbands, great fathers, good citizens.

You get old and you realize there are no answers, just stories.

The term "evil powers" is one you hear only in the church, or in Marvel comic books, or Republican speeches.

We come from people who brought us up to believe that life is a struggle, and if you should feel really happy, be patient: this will pass.

You taught me to be nice, so nice that now I am so full of niceness, I have no sense of right and wrong, no outrage, no passion.

There is almost no marital problem that can't be helped enormously by taking off your clothes.

We live a pleasant life shopping at the Food Shoppe ... taking the kids to the Weinery- Beanery... and eating bran flakes ... and then, with no warning, we wake up one morning stricken with middle age, full of loneliness, dumb, in pain. Our work is useless, our vocation is lost, and nobody cares about us at all. This is not bearable. In despair, we go do something spectacularly dumb, like run away with Amber the cocktail waitress, and suddenly all the women in our life look at us with unmitigated disgust.

You'd learn more about the world by lying on the couch and drinking gin out of a bottle than by watching the news.

There's no mastery to be had. You love the attempt. You don't master a story any more than you master a river. You feel lucky to canoe down it.

Author Picture
First Name
Garrison
Last Name
Keillor, fully Gary Edward "Garrison" Keillor
Birth Date
1942
Bio

American Author, Storyteller, Humorist, Essayist and Radio Personality, Creator of Radio’s “A Prairie Home Companion”