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December 03 2012

When people asked me, “Do you take Oscar home with you at night?,” I’d say, “Which Oscar?—the Oscar at the very beginning of his career, the most brilliant student Oxford had produced, his life is in front of him with the prospect of parliament, or the Oscar in a treadmill in the prison, with dysentery and running sores, absolutely humiliated and believing that he will be basically regarded in the same light as Judas in the inner circle of hell by all literary people, never to be respected again, never to be read again.” You can’t talk about taking this home, it’s too difficult.
Stephen Fry
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Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry play chess in Fry’s rooms at Cambridge, 1980.
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But just as we can all agree on what is red, even if we will never know if we each see it in the same way, so we can all agree - can’t we? - that no matter how confident we may appear to others, inside we are all sobbing, scared and uncertain for much of the time. Or perhaps it’s just me.

Oh God, perhaps it really is just me.

Actually it doesn’t really matter, when you come to think of it. If it is just me, then you are reading the story of some weird freak. You are free to treat this book like science fiction, fantasy or exotic travel literature. Are there really men like Stephen Fry on this planet? Goodness, how alien some people are. And if I am not alone, then neither are you, and hand in hand we can marvel together at the strangeness of the human condition.

The Fry Chronicles, Stephen Fry
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“It’s not all bad. Heightened self-consciousness, apartness, an inability to join in, physical shame and self-loathing—they are not all bad. Those devils have been my angels. Without them I would never have disappeared into language, literature, the mind, laughter and all the mad intensities that made and unmade me.”
Moab Is My Washpot
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“To find oneself believing, as I did when in my twenties, that John Keats for example was strictly for moonstruck adolescents is as stupid and ignorant as to think that grown-ups shouldn’t ride bicycles. More stupid, more stupid by far. John Keats may not seem as sophisticated a paperback for the hip pocket of a self-conscious student as Beckett, Bellow or Musil, for example, but his greatness is not something that can be diminished by the stupidity of the newly adult. You can’t outgrow Keats any more than you can outgrow nitrogen.”
Moab Is My Washpot
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Q: What has life taught you?
Stephen Fry: The major lesson of life seems to be that just when you think you've understood things, something happens to turn your understanding upside down and inside out. So I suppose life has taught me nothing. Which is as it should be.
Fuck Yeah Stephen Fry
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September 24 2012

Stephen Fry, The Book of General Ignorance.
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September 22 2012

Stephen Fry: What have I hypnotized? Do you know?
Alan Davies: Hugh Laurie.
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September 21 2012

Moab is My Washpot by Stephen Fry
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September 16 2012

#Nothing like a small herd of Stephen Frys to brighten up anyones day
Might make you smile :)
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For What It's Worth
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September 08 2012

The New Adventures of Stephen Fry
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September 07 2012

August 07 2012

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July 10 2012

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