Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Tuesday Trivia

For December, when everyone's mind is occupied with shopping, partying and general stress, we'll be doing Simple Trivia.

Richard Lederer, in Literary Trivia, notes that some of the best known book titles are inspired by other literature. Can you identify the book, and author, from this snippet?
One flew east, one flew west
One flew over the cuckoo's nest.
--nursery rhyme

Here are the answers to last week's trivia questions:
(Also from Richard Lederer's Literary Trivia)

Can you identify the title of the book, and author, this snippet inspired?
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men,
Gang aft a-gley,
An' lea'e us naught but grief an' pain
for promised joy!
--Robert Burns, "To a Mouse"
inspired:
Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck

Here is the entire poem "To a Mouse" by Robert Burns:
To A Mouse, On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With The Plough

1785
Type: Poem

Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murd'ring pattle!

I'm truly sorry man's dominion,
Has broken nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An' fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
An' never miss't!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell-
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld!

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men
Gang aft agley,

An'lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me
The present only toucheth thee:
But, Och! I backward cast my e'e.
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!

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