Quotes About Quote

All this talk of necromancy was just a morbid veil drawn over the filthy truth of the matter. Poor Elise! Stuck with a broken-down husband, who knew no better way to please than to give her over to an Englishman for an occasional pleasuring. Of all things, an Englishman! As if the English knew anything about making love. (Haeckel's Tale)

The demon – what did Harry call him? Dick face? Pinprick? Pinhead! That was it.

Linda Ross Vice president of operations for the Corporation and U.S. Navy veteran.

serving time for murder whose name was Miguel Quentin is anybody's guess.

But gold was not what piqued his interest. It was too heavy and too risky for one man to dispose of.

It was the cash that brought him to Bisbee, not the prized yellow metal.

That madwoman threatened to shoot off my testicles.

Call it theft of Mr. Spock's logic.

I'll shed this Star Wars suit while we're in flight. The Navy can have it back when I get around to returning it.

It's perfectly normal that extraordinary things happen to me. I'm an exceptional person. Oh, don't think I'm boasting. I mean to say that, unfortunately, I'm exceptional and that, unfortunately, I can't live by the rules. I must make my own.

Infancy presents body and spirit in unity: the body is all animated.

Sure, Desdemona, at the receptionist's age, and seeing some poor woman in a second-hand gown and a plaster-cast of makeup to cover the encroaching menaces of age - wouldn't she have shot the same withering glance?

Septimus, if the ivy needs to consume a human child to become all-powerful, it's safe to assume it's the invasive stuff.

mountains, and cried: 'That is the tomb of Kochoi, the companion of Manas!

No, I had no dollars. The man struggled spider-legged away through the rain, leaving me struck by the illogic of things

The cultural problem was 'the fallacy of insignificance', and it was a philosophical form of this fallacy that had somehow landed existentialism in a cul de sac.

How does one address... the master of the vampire executioners? My lord? Your grace? Your stakeness?

I have my theories, I said before Grayling could speak. Please feel free to keep them to yourself, the Scot suggested.

Jealousy doesn't become you. Of course I care about your welfare as well as Sebastian's, and Temple's too, of course—but the last time I saw him he barely escaped poofing in the sun.

Perhaps Nickel was the very afterlife that awaited him, with a White House down the hill and an eternity of oatmeal and an infinite brotherhood of broken boys.

Alma used the word settled the way less genteel people used motherfucker, as a chisel to pry open a particular feeling.

You are a soulless monster whose fright mask is incapable of capturing human expressions.

The championship would be their sole acquaintance with justice at Nickel.

A plantation was a plantation; one might think one's misfortunes distinct, but the true horror lay in their universities.