'Flaubert's Parrot' is an amphibious book in which what appears to be a personal essay about Flaubertian writing is gradually, delicately transformed into an extremely sad novel in which the differences between character, author, and narrator are less clear than they appear at first glance.
People that want to talk can talk. Even a parrot talks. People are always going to have their thoughts on what they're going to say.
I'm a parrot. I can pick up an accent and just do it.
I have two dogs and a parrot, so they require a lot of attention. They deserve it.
My mom used to call me a parrot, because the way I spoke would change in every country we'd go to.
The best match I ever played in was the U.K. championship final against John Parrot in 1992. I won 16-14 and I felt like I could pot anything from anywhere.
I operate under the theory that all publicity is good publicity, and then, if that theory doesn't work, you just say that any newspaper article ends up on the bottom of the parrot cage. But, of course, you can't line a parrot cage with Internet bloggers, can you?
I had a date with a girl I called 'the parrot.' All she did was repeat everything I said. She never had an original thought of her own. Everything I liked, she liked. Everything I hated, she hated. It was annoying!
The parrot's so funny. He imitates me and I don't even realize he's doing it. I'm walking around the house talking to myself and whistling and the next day he's said something I've said... it's scary you know?
What are we promoting in society? Well-behaved automatons that spew back what they learned in a book. That's not science. You can get a parrot to do that.
