Quotes from Anthony Boucher

Among the extremely diverse books lumped together as 'mysteries,' I shall try to judge each fairly according to the best standards of the type which the author intended to produce.

It was so completely obvious, and yet what proof was there? It was, Martin thought, like the rabbit which the Hindus see in the moon. It is next to impossible to make people see it; but once they have recognized it, they will never see a face or a man or a woman there again. It is obvious that there is a rabbit in the moon; but obviousness seems too often unsusceptible of proof. The Case of the Seven of Calvary

We have not fully deciphered his language but I have, as instructed, been keeping full phonetic transcriptions of his every remark. Trubaz has calculated psychologically that the meaning of this remark to be: "Ministers of the Great one, be gracious to me." The phonetic transcription is as follows: AND THEY TALK ABOUT PINK ELEPHANTS!

On Friday evening Martin and Mona went to the United Artists Theatre to see a film already being mentioned for the Academy award. It had three stars, ran a hundred and ten minutes, and bored them both to petrifaction. (In brief, the award was in the bag.) The Case of the Seven of Calvary

There is no telling what would happen if I taught her The Word." "Not the least. Of course, there's some werethings that just aren't much use being. Take a wereant. You change and somebody steps on you and that's that. Or like a fella, I knew in Madagascar. Taught him the Word and know what? He turned wereiplodicus. Shattered the whole house into pieces when he changed and damned near trampled me under hoof before I could say Absarka!

ten centuries ago people would have snorted just like that at the idea of a black as Head on this planet. Such narrow stupidity seems fantastic to us now. Our own prejudices will seem just as comical to our great-great-grandchildren.

The working press -- a strange expression that; it calls up a picture of a horde of other pressmen lolling about Hollywood on sumptuous divans, smother by bevies of attendant odalisques, and thinking scornfully of their colleagues of the WORKING press -- the working press took kindly to the reception for the Baker Street Irregulars.

Mr. Evans beamed. "Could I get you a drink?" he said. The words were ordinary; the phrase was one that Maureen had heard and often welcomed at endless dozens of parties. But Mr. Evans managed to invest it with such a delightful Edwardian gallantry that you almost thought he had said, "May I bring an ice to you in the conservatory?

Even Asmodeus, that limping devil who looked through rooftops at men's most secret actions, could not have told which of these thoughts masked an undercurrent of joy -- the joy of the man who know that he has killed wisely and well.

James Hilton, who had himself endured an almost equally amazing mass enthusiasm, referred in a radio talk to Mr. Winton's admirable "Threenody." This sent thousands scurrying to the Oxford English Dictionary, and set other thousands writing indignantly to their pet radio editors. Fifty-three per cent of these managed an indirect reference to England's war debt.

In my mind ran the immortal line of James Thurber, that phrase at once so intensely comic and so pregnant with suggestions of unnameable terror: "Now we go up to the garrick and become warbs." We were going up to the garrick all right, and warbs suddenly seemed the least terrifying of the things we might become.

Her bosom heaved, and she was just the guy to do it.

And it seems to me, Miss O'Breen, that to forswear mercy is to forswear humanity. If to destroy evil we take up its very weapons, we shall learn in time that all we have destroyed is the best in ourselves. [Jonadab Evans]

a splendid treat for the Mexican children who came weekly in school busses from the north end of town.

Still, I think Hardy's the most likely person in this theater to be snapped up by the studios." "But he can't act!" Norman protested. "Sure he can't act. Neither can Nelson Eddy, and he makes a living." "But Eddy can sing." "All right. So Hardy can't sing either. That makes him twice as attractive.

But a werewolf is a man that chages into a wolf. I've never done that. Honest I haven't." "A mammal," Said Ozymandias, "is an animal that bears its young and suckles them. A virgin is nonetheless a mammal. Because you have never changed doesn't make you less of a werewolf." "But a werewolf-" Suddenly Wolfe's eyes lit up. "A werewolf is better than a G-man!