Quotes About Quote

Right? said Lymond. You pathetic, maladroit nincompoop, you're never right.

For a moment Lymond remained there, surveying them. His eight officers, staring edgily back, saw a delicate-looking gentleman in a pretty paned and pinked tunic with the finest voile shirt bands and a link-belt of Italian enamel work. A man whose yellow hair, dry and light and unevenly tipped, eclipsed the sunlight behind him, and whose attic profile and unoccupied, long-shafted hands caused a small moan of ecstasy to burst, very circumspectly, from Mr Hislop's baby-pink lips.

This officer, but doubt, is callit deid.

Jerott had no reason to challenge her wit. For a woman, it seemed to him at times excessive to tiresomeness.

My dear man,' Philippa said. 'It seems to me that you have no spirit left but the spirit of resentment.

He was the sort of person one could with justice kill if only - if only one had had the sense to bring a weapon.

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

My dear boy, in Ireland the midwife uses one hand to hold the baby's best fighting arm from the font water, and grips its jaws with the other lest the goes to litigation about it. Says O'LiamRoe

Jerott thought, acidly, that a slip of that dagger, if it happened, would save Francis Crawford a large sum of money.

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

I rather think one of us drunk is sufficient.

I'm glad, in a way," Lymond said. "I couldn't quite bring myself to attack them, lunatics that they are." "You are sentimental," said Nicolas de Nicolay complacently. "But the tender stomach does not attack the pure—no—not even the pure in stupidity.

Then the righteous will shine like the sun and run about like sparks among reeds and all of you, I trust, will cease troubling me.

Lymond said, 'You were too intent on your own slaughter; too ruthless; too greedy. You have pushed me until I have no alternatives left. You must take the consequences of that.

Evil matters. So does love. So does pity. My pilgrim," said the Dame de Doubtance gently, "you have still three bitter lessons to learn.

What will you not achieve next time? You should be relieved. A lifetime of desertion, and you are still her favourite son.

Patriotism is a fine hothouse for maggots.

Liberty to drink and to debauch are said to recreate and refresh the soul.' 'Then——' said Kiaya Khátún. 'I have no soul,' said Lymond. 'Forgive me.

I regret Richard isn't with you. No matter. God hath a thousand hand?s to chastise and I have two—how can Richard escape us both?

Chancellor said, 'She is concerned for your future.' 'She is concerned for her dog and her cat,' Lymond said. 'It is a Somerville failing.

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.

He has the exact Crawford colouring.' 'Egg mimicry,' said Lymond.

Then Richard said, 'That was crude, for you.' 'But as you will find,' said Lymond softly, addressing the sand, 'I am a very crude man.