Quotes About Dunnett

Intentions, yours or anyone else's, don't matter; they never matter and never excuse.

Not to every young girl is it given to enter the harem of the Sultan of Turkey and return to her homeland a virgin.

Whatever fascination Lymond held for her mother, it had no power at five in the morning.

Intolerance drunk is bad enough, but intolerance sober is quite insupportable.

Fools make news, and wise men carry it.

And isna Sybilla a wee love o' a bitch?' 'You say the nicest things about my mother,' said Lymond.

Unwanted, unasked, unwelcome as ever, here I am.' 'Again,' said Lymond.

Intentions, yours or anyone else's, don't matter; they never matter and never excuse: get that into your head.

Faith, thought O'LiamRoe. And not a decent creature among them thought to say that the only rule in it is for a man to have a fine, steady seat for an elephant.

I would have forgone even the body for the sake of the mind. And I would have claimed neither body nor mind, had I discovered a soul.

It would have made a fitting tomb, she supposed, for Thady Boy Ballagh. That it was fitting for Francis Crawford she would not believe.

A long sea voyage with Jerott spewing drunk on every deck is not my idea of an adequate quid pro quo.

This is a clever bastard, my friends. I like that word entertainment, for instance.

All I gathered from that is that Francis Crawford is a raging harlot.

This officer, but doubt, is callit deid.

You tried to …? How?' 'In the time-honoured fashion,' he said. 'My cuffs are too tight to gratify you with a view.

We may lack some polish,' he said. 'But distrust the society which displays overmuch dangerous charm.

He received another kiss which led him to wonder, hopefully, if the English bastard at the Hôtel d'Hercule was dying.

Evil the drink and ill the resting place. I am not, unfortunately, asleep.

I rather think one of us drunk is sufficient.

Andrew's a nice, gentlemanly lad, but his estate's been bled dry; and as for the ill-armed crew he calls followers—Man, they'd lay on a battlefield like dandruff.

Patriotism is a fine hothouse for maggots.

Verily, God hath eighteen thousand worlds; and verily, your world is one of them, and this its bright axle-tree." The odd phrase stayed with Chancellor, through Pinega and beyond

You're indecent.' Tobie dragged down his shirt. 'It reflects my state of mind,' he said.