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La serpiente era más sutil que cualquier animal del campo creado por Dios. Génesis

Lyra ook niet.' 'Elfenmelk,' zei ze. 'Wat doet dat met je? Is ze nu ook een elfje?

Reason had brought her to this state. She had exalted reason over every other faculty. The result had been—was now—the deepest unhappiness she had ever felt.

Alexander was given a reward, and he went on to become a great hunter of atheists and pagans.

Marcel Delamare asked the question with enormous and unconcealed patience.

I have told you all the rules I know. If there are rules I have forgotten to mention then they do not matter.

I never heard about that!' said Lyra, indignant. She considered it a deplorable lapse on the part of her subjects not to tell her everything and at once.

What Mrs. Coulter was saying seemed to be accompanied by a scent of grownupness, something disturbing but enticing at the same time; it was the smell of glamour.

Except my uncle Ã¢â'¬Â¦ There's something I forgot to tell you. When he was showing them lantern slides, there was another one he had. It was the Roarer—' 'The what?' said John Faa. 'The Aurora,' said Farder Coram.

but he wondered how many others had seen the loneliness in her expression when she wasn't guarding it.

The loveliest fairy tale of childhood is that everything happens in order.

I am not impressed by the White House!" my father cried, hammering on the table to shut her up after she'd said "the White House" for the fifteenth time. "I am only impressed by who lives there. And the person who lives there is a Nazi.

The ordeal is part of the commitment Esquire Interview 10/10

If only I could have nourished myself upon the depths of his vulgarity, instead of that too becoming a source of shame. Shame and shame and shame and shame—every place I turn something else to be ashamed of.

Would that I were still a ludicrous character in his lousy book!

my imagination I am unfaithful to everybody, by the way, not just to you.

Makarska and Madamaska.

We 8 are the Few, the Proud, the More or Less Constantly Appalled at Everyone Else.

This kind of fiction doesn't interest me.

The long cigarette seemed almost to be bleeding smoke, the sunlight on the couch was so bright.

As essayist Lewis Hyde points out, self-mocking irony is always Sincerity, with a motive.

I carry the seeds of your hatred,' he shouted, hurling his words to the winds, 'and I know where to plant them.' Yes, he thought, Thebes is the right destination for the Lion of Macedon.

Less of a Galahad than a Lancelot, thought Archer. A flawed knight in a flawed world, unstable yet unyielding.

Witherspoon is a gangster, a cheat, and a God damn liar, but he is of very little actual importance; merely a boodling nincompoop.