Lucius Morris Beebe (December 9, 1902 – February 4, 1966) was an American author, gourmand, photographer, railroad historian, journalist, and syndicated columnist.
High blood pressure, cheeriness at breakfast, a mellowing political philosophy, and an inability to drink more than half a bottle of proof spirits at cocktail time without falling over the fire irons all suggest dark wings hovering overhead and the impending midnight croak of the raven.
New York. . . Babylon-on-the-Hudson, sinful, extravagant, full of the nervous hilarity of the doomed.
What is subversive today, will almost certainly be patriotic tomorrow.
I admire most of all The Renaissance Man, and if it can be said without pretentiousness, I like to think of myself as one, at least in some small measure. Not a Michelangelo, mark you, but perhaps a poor man's Cellini or a road company Cosimo de' Medici. . . the Renaissance Man did a number of things, many of them well, a few beautifully. He was no damned specialist.
A gourmet can tell from the flavor whether a woodcock's leg is the one on which the bird is accustomed to roost.
George Jessel’s newest pick-me-up which is receiving attention from the town’s paragraphers is called a Bloody Mary: half tomato juice, half vodka.
Georgi Plekhanov
Fred Richmond
Olivier Martinez
Edwin Lutyens
Terry Waite
Julia Kristeva
Valerius Geist
Leo Ryan
Steven Novella
Bill Press
Sidney Lumet
Robert Simonds