Too late the phalarope

So when I was a little kid, I wanted to grow up to be a person who uttered famous quotations. I outgrew that lost hope, don't even text or tweet or submit to You Tube, so I guess I'll never be famous. But my later version of the ideal vocation would have ultimately turned out to be even more ill-fated. You see, I read this article in I think it was The Atlantic about a man who was an expert on the works of William Shakespeare. As I recall, he lived in an upscale apartment, probably in NYC, and people from all over the country and indeed the world consulted him whenever they needed an appropriate quotation from the works of Shakespeare. College professors, business tycoons, clergymen, politicians, speakers from all walks of life who wanted a dignified, salient addition to their speeches or articles would ask this man who knew Shakespeare backward and forward, and who could be counted on to provide them with exactly the reference they were looking for. He was immensely respected for his knowledge, and made a good living for providing the sought-after quotation for the proper event. I happened to own The Complete Works of Shakespeare, and told my young self that if that job hadn't already been taken, I could have pretty much memorized a great deal of Shakespeare's works, and was convinced I could have matched an apt quotation to whatever situation was asked for. I thought I would have loved that job. I should have invented google instead.