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— Tommy Cooper"I cleaned the attic with the wife the other day. Now I can't get the cobwebs out of her hair."
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I had these couple of hippie guy friends who were super broke and living in the attic of somebody's house and they were like, "We don't have any food, man." And so I decided to go to the grocery store and steal chicken pot pie. And I stuck it inside my clothes. I took a couple frozen chicken pot pies and stuck them inside my pants, and I got caught walking out of the store. And they took me in the back room, and - luckily, I was 14, but I had a fake ID saying I was 18, so they didn't call my parents.
— Cassandra Peterson
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The imagination doesn't crop annually like a reliable fruit tree. The writer has to gather whatever's there: sometimes too much, sometimes too little, sometimes nothing at all. And in the years of glut there is always a slatted wooden tray in some cool, dark attic, which the writer nervously visits from time to time; and yes, oh dear, while he's been hard at work downstairs, up in the attic there are puckering skins, warning spots, a sudden brown collapse and the sprouting of snowflakes. What can he do about it?
— Julian Barnes
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