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  •   16  /  10  

    His eye begets occasion for his wit;
    For every object that the one doth catch
    The other turns to a mirth-moving jest,
    Which his fair tongue, conceit's expositor,
    Delivers in such apt and gracious words,
    That aged ears play truant at his tales,
    And younger hearings are quite ravished,
    So sweet and voluble is his discourse.

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  13  /  11  

A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour!

A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour!

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  15  /  23  

With a tale forsooth he cometh unto you, with a tale which
holdeth children from play, and old men read more

With a tale forsooth he cometh unto you, with a tale which
holdeth children from play, and old men from the chimney corner.

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  19  /  17  

But that's another story.

But that's another story.

by Rudyard Kipling Found in: Story telling Quotes,
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  12  /  13  

An' all us other children, when the supper things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an' has read more

An' all us other children, when the supper things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun
A-list'nin' to the witch tales 'at Annie tells about
An' the gobble-uns 'at gits you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!

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  7  /  13  

If a nation loses its storytellers, it loses its childhood.

If a nation loses its storytellers, it loses its childhood.

by Peter Handke Found in: Story telling Quotes,
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  21  /  22  

In after-dinner talk,
Across the walnuts and the wine.

In after-dinner talk,
Across the walnuts and the wine.

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  8  /  17  

Out of their saddles into the dirt--and thereby hangs a tale.

Out of their saddles into the dirt--and thereby hangs a tale.

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  21  /  23  

Why do you laugh? Change but the name, and the story s told of
yourself.
[Lat., Quid rides?]
read more

Why do you laugh? Change but the name, and the story s told of
yourself.
[Lat., Quid rides?]
Mutato nomine de te fabula narratur.]

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  10  /  13  

But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison house,
I could a tale read more

But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison house,
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end
Like quills upon the fretful porpentine.

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