Academy Series Quotes

There is no worse sound in the world than someone who cannot play the violin but insists on doing so anyway.

All the best, Sydney P.S. "The Red Hurricane" is what I named the car. P.P.S. Just because I like you, it doesn't mean I still don't think you're an evil creature of the night. You are.

Friends can make you feel that the world is smaller and less sneaky than it really is, because you know people who have similar experiences.

Assumptions are dangerous things to make, and like all dangerous things to make -- bombs, for instance, or strawberry shortcake -- if you make even the tiniest mistake you can find yourself in terrible trouble. Making assumptions simply means believing things are a certain way with little or no evidence that shows you are correct, and you can see at once how this can lead to terrible trouble. For instance, one morning you might wake up and make the assumption that your bed was in the same place that it always was, even though you would have no real evidence that this was so. But when you got out of your bed, you might discover that it had floated out to sea, and now you would be in terrible trouble all because of the incorrect assumption that you'd made. You can see that it is better not to make too many assumptions, particularly in the morning.

Everybody will die, but very few people want to be reminded of that fact.

So they finally gave you the license to kill, about time.

For Beatrice - you will always be in my mind, in my heart and in your grave.

Well. Like I said, I dont want to fight anymore. I dont want us to hate each other. And ... well ... I squeezed my eyes shut and then opened them. No matter how I fee about us ... I want you to be happy

In times of extreme stress, one can often find energy hidden in even the most exhausted areas of the body.

It looked exhausting and pointless, two things that should be avoided at all costs

Klaus had known for all twelve of his years that his older sister found a hand on her shoulder comforting - as long as the hand was attached to an arm, of course.

...bravery often demands a price.

Because sometimes, a person can get so caught up in the details that they miss the whole. It's not just the dress or the hair. It's you. You're beautiful. So beautiful it hurts me.

Mr. Poe meant well, but a jar of mustard probably also means well and would do a better job of keeping the Baudelaires out of danger.

Just because something is traditional is no reason to do it, of course. Piracy, for example, is a tradition that has been carried on for hundreds of years, but that doesn’t mean we should all attack ships and steal their gold.

You can't force love, I realized. It's there or it isn't.

The expression "following suit" is a curious one, because it has nothing to do with walking behind a matching set of clothing. If you follow suit, it means you do the same thing somebody else has just done. If all of your friends decided to jump off a bridge into the icy waters of an ocean or river, for instance, and you jumped in right after them, you would be following suit. You can see why following suit can be a dangerous thing to do, because you could end up drowning simply because somebody else thought of it first.

A person who designs buildings is called an architect, but in the case of Prufrock Prep a better term might be 'depressed architect.

You write poetry?" Klaus asked. He had read a lot about poets but had never met one. "Just a little bit," Isadora said modestly. "I write poems down in this notebook. It's an interest of mine." "Sappho!" Sunny shrieked, which meant something like, "I'd be very pleased to hear a poem of yours!

There's nothing wrong with athletics, but they shouldn't get in the way of your schoolwork.

And she’s the most brilliant and naive girl I’ve ever met. I’d give her anything she ever wanted to let me in. To trust me.

Malicious or not, strong leaders always attract others.

Goddamn-shit-motherfucker,” Gabriel spat out.

As I'm sure you know, a good night's sleep helps you perform well in school, and so if you are a student you should always get a good night's sleep unless you have come to the good part of your book, and then you should stay up all night and let your schoolwork fall by the wayside, a phrase which here means 'flunk.

Everybody will die, of course, sooner or later. Circus performers will die, and clarinet experts will die, and you and I will die, and there might be a person who lives on your block, right now, who is not looking both ways before he crosses the street and who will die in just in a few seconds, all because of a bus. Everybody will die, but very few people want to be reminded of that fact.

Warwick Castle, Oxford University, the Cotswold, and the countryside of England are my favorite places to visit when I’m in England. Whenever I visit, I feel as if I’ve come home. These places inspired my settings for my fantasy series, Bitter Frost Series, Wordwick Games, and The Alchemists Academy. I didn’t know the great author of the Lord of the Rings Trilogy was also inspired by Warwick, Oxford, and Cotswold. Imaginative minds must dream alike.

I’ve never heard of anyone waiting to be nervous until after.

If you were going to give a gold medal to Count Olaf, you would have to lock it up someplace before the awarding ceremony, because Count Olaf was such a greedy and evil man that he would try to steal it beforehand.

The siblings wished that if Mr. Poe were really jealous of them he would attend Prufrock Preparatory School himself, and they could work at the bank.

Dude, she’s not five,” Nathan said. “She can make her own choices.

I’ll stay,” I said. “As long as I’m wanted.

Memento Mori' means 'Remember you will die.

But happy moments came rarely and unexpectedly in the Baudelaires' lives, and the three siblings had learned to accept them.

Occasionally, events in one's life become clearer through the prism of experience, a phrase which simply means that things tend to be clearer as time goes on. For instance, when a person is just born, they usually have no idea what curtains are and spend a great deal of their first months wondering why on earth Mommy and Daddy have hung large pieces of cloth over each window in the nursery. But as the person grows older, the idea of curtains becomes clearer through the prism of experience. The person will learn the word "curtains" and notice that they are actually quite handy for keeping a room dark when it is time to sleep, and for decorating an otherwise boring window area. Eventually, they will entirely accept the idea of curtains of their own, or venetian blinds, and it is all due to the prism of experience.

Yes, I know," Isadora said, and then read her poem, leaning forward so Carmelita Spats would not overhear: "I would rather eat a bowl of vampire bats than spend an hour with Carmelita Spats." The Baudelaires giggled and then covered their mouths so nobody would know they were laughing at Carmelita. "That was great," Klaus said. "I like the part about the bowl of bats.

As if he were reading her thoughts, Klaus put a hand on Violet's shoulder, and she smiled at him. Klaush had known for all his twelve years that his sister found a hand on her shoulder comforting- as long as the hand was attached to an arm, of course.

If you were smart," Genghis said, "you would have borrowed the silverware of one of your friends." "We never thought of that," Klaus said. When one is forced to tell atrocious lies, one often feels a guilty flutter in one's stomach, and Klaus felt such a flutter now. "You certainly are an intelligent man." "Not only am I intelligent," Genghis agreed, "but I'm also very smart.

Assumptions are dangerous things to make, and like all dangerous things to make - bombs, for instance, or strawberry shortcake - if you make even the tiniest mistake you can find yourself in terrible trouble.

What happened to her now?

Oh my fucking god,

Emma: It's obvious he likes you. So painfully obvious - and what does he do about it? Nothing.

I froze, finding myself in the middle of an entire display of delicate paper animals. I'd found the door to Narnia

I am a southern woman. I don’t need your help in the kitchen, boy,” Emersyn screamed from downstairs, two floors down. She was cooking fried chicken for everyone, and the smell was pure Heaven. “Touch my chicken, and you’ll lose an arm, Easton! GET! SHOO!

As I'm sure you know, there are two types of "What?" in the world. The first type simply means "Excuse me, I didn't hear you. Could you please repeat yourself?" The second type is a little trickier. It means something more along the lines of "Excuse me, I did hear you, but I can't believe that's really what you meant.

As if he were reading her thoughts, Klaus put a hand on Violet's shoulder, and she smiled at him. Klaus had known for all his twelve years that his sister found a hand on her shoulder comforting- as long as the hand was attached to an arm, of course.

Malicious or not, strong leaders always attracted others.

The expression "following suit" is a curious one, because it has nothing to do with walking behind a matching set of clothing.

There is one, and only one, advantage to somebody who cannot play the violin insisting on doing so anyways, and the advantage is that they often play so loudly that they cannot hear if the audience is having a conversation. It is extremely rude, of course, for an audience to talk during a concert performance, but when the performance is a wretched one, and lasts six hours, such rudeness can be forgiven.

I'm afraid it's not nonsense," Genghis said, shaking his turbaned head and continuing his story. "As I was saying before the little girl interrupted me, the baby didn't dash off with the other orphans. She just sat there like a sack of flour. So I walked over to her and gave her a kick to get her moving." "Excellent idea!" Nero said. "What a wonderful story this is! And then what happened?" "Well, at first it seemed like I'd kicked a big hole in the baby," Genghis said, his eyes shining, "which seemed lucky, because Sunny was a terrible athlete and it would have been a blessing to put her out of her misery." Nero clapped his hands. "I know just what you mean, Genghis," he said. "She's a terrible secretary as well." "But she did all that stapling," Mr. Remora protested. "Shut up and let the coach finish his story," Nero said. "But when I looked down," Genghis continued, "I saw that I hadn't kicked a hole in a baby. I'd kicked a hole in a bag of flour! I'd been tricked!" "That's terrible!" Nero cried.

The Baudelaire orphans hung on to one another, and wept and wept while the adults argued endlessly behind them. Finally-as, I'm sorry to say, Count Olaf forced the Quagmires into puppy costumes so he could sneak them onto the airplane without anyone noticing-the Baudelaires cried themselves out and just sat on the lawn together in weary silence.

As if he were reading her thoughts, Klaus put a hand on Violet's shoulder, and she smiled at him. Klaus had known for all his twelve years that his older sister found a hand on her shoulder comforting- as long as the hand was attached to an arm, of course.

The other guys were in the bedroom. There was a movie playing, one I hadn’t seen. The boys lifted their heads up at the same time, like a pack of meerkats. I almost died. Too cute. Stone, C. L. (2014-08-09). Liar: The Scarab Beetle Series: #2 (The Academy Scarab Beetle Series) (p. 176). Arcato Publishing. Kindle Edition.

I don't think people have made staples by hand since the fifteenth century.

Malicious or not, strong leaders always attracted followers

What does the leopard teach us? Not to be intimidated by animals that outweigh him. To be fearless and daring.   It

One person’s hairy spider is another person’s red-nosed clown,

Baudelaires had visited the office of Vice Principal Nero and learned about all of the academy’s strict and unfair rules. When they worked

Overall, the shack was too miserable to serve as a storage space for old banana peels, let alone as a home for three young people, and I confess that if I had been told that it was my home I probably would have lain on the bales of hay and thrown a temper tantrum.

Whenever you see the words 'hee hee hee' in a book, or 'ha ha ha,' or 'har har har,' or 'heh heh heh,' or even 'ho ho ho,' those words mean somebody was laughing. In the case, however, the words 'hee hee hee' cannot really describe what Vice Principal Nero's laugh sounded like. The laugh was squeaky, and it was wheezy, and it had a rough crackly edge to it, as if Nero were eating tin cans and he laughed at the children. But most of all the laugh sounded cruel.

I don't believe in soul mates, not exactly. I think it's ridiculous to think there's only one person out there for us. What if your "soul mate" lives in Zimbabwe? What if he dies young? I also think "two souls becoming one" is ridiculous. You need to hold onto yourself. But I do believe in souls being in sync, souls that mirror each other.

Books in the series should be read in the following order.   Moon Wreck: First Contact (Short Story) Moon Wreck: Revelations (Short Story) Moon Wreck: Secrets of Ceres (Short Story) The Slaver Wars: Alien Contact (Novel) Moon Wreck: Fleet Academy (Novel) The Slaver Wars: First Strike (Novel)

If you have walked into a museum recently - whether you did so to attend an art exhibition or to escape from the police - you may have noticed a type of painting known as a triptych. A triptych has three panels, with something different painted on each of the panels. For instance, my friend Professor Reed made a triptych for me, and he painted fire on one panel, a typewriter on another, and the face of a beautiful, intelligent woman on the third. The triptych is entitled What Happened to Beatrice and I cannot look upon it without weeping. I am a writer, and not a painter, but if I were to try and paint a triptych entitled The Baudelaire Orphans' Miserable Experiences at Prufrock Prep, I would paint Mr. Remora on one panel, Mrs. Brass on another, and a box of staples on the third, and the results would make me so sad that between the Beatrice triptych and the Baudelaire triptych I would scarcely stop weeping all da

If you were going to give a gold medal tot he least delightful person on Earth, you would have to give that medal to a person named Carmelita Spats, and if you didn't give it to her, Carmelita Spats was the sort of person who would snatch it from your hands anyway. Carmelita Spats was rude, she was violent, and she was filthy, and it is really a shame that I must describe her to you, because there are enough ghastly and distressing things in this story without even mentioning such an unpleasant person.

Her stomach hurts? Why?” I held back a sigh . Academy cavalry. I wondered how long it would take before North, or Silas , or someone else called and asked me why I didn’t tell them my stomach hurt or tried something else to help it. Stone, C. L. (2014-05-31). Push and Shove: The Ghost Bird Series: #6 (p. 56). Arcato Publishing. Kindle Edition.

Well, Nero," Genghis said, "I just wanted to give you this rose-a small gift of congratulations for the wonderful concert you gave us last night!" "Oh, thank you," Nero said, taking the rose out of Genghis's hand and giving it a good smell. "I was wonderful, wasn't I?" "You were perfection!" Genghis said. "The first time you played your sonata, I was deeply moved. The second time, I had tears in my eyes. The third time, I was sobbing. The fourth time, I had an uncontrollable emotional attack. The fifth time-" The Baudelaires did not hear about the fifth time because Nero's door swung shut behind them.

Look!" Mr. Poe said, who was still too far to help but close enough to see. "Genghis has an eye tattoo, like Count Olaf! In fact, I think he IS Count Olaf!" "Of course he is!" Violet cried, holding up the unraveled turban. "Merd!" Sunny shrieked, holding up a tiny piece of shoelace. She meant something like "That's what we've been trying to tell you.

They had so much and she had... well, she had herself, she supposed. That was all anyone was guaranteed in life.

But it always came back to anger.

Triplets are when four babies are born at the same time, and there are only two Quagmires.

It is always cruel to laugh at people, of course, although sometimes if they are wearing an ugly hat it is hard to control yourself. But

Friends can make you feel that the world is small and less sneaky than it really is, because you know people who have similar experiences....

I discovered this myself when I was woken up in the middle of the night and chased sixteen miles by an angry mob armed with torches, swords, and vicious dogs,

You're shitting me.

Bravery often demands a price.

Klaus had known for all twelve of his years that his older sister found a hand on her shoulder comforting—as long as the hand was attached to an arm, of course.

YOU KNOW IF YOU WERENT SO PSYCHOTIC YOU WOULD BE FUN TO HANG OUT WITH

Friends can make you feel that the world is smaller and less sneaky than it really is.

How does Kota know so much?” “Sometimes I think he’s not human,” Victor said.

Karen’s eyes lit up. “You little heartbreaker. You do like them all.

Friday Fall.

Holy crap, Kota knows Kung Fu.

Those two Quagmires will whisk and whisk until they are simply whisked away.

gingerly—the word “gingerly” here means “avoiding territorial crabs”—

The library turned out to be a very pleasant place, but it was not the comfortable chairs, the huge wooden bookshelves, or the hush of people reading that made the three siblings feel so good as they walked into the room. It is useless for me to tell you all about the brass lamps in the shapes of different fish, or the bright blue curtains that rippled like water as a breeze came in from the window, because although these were wonderful things they were no what made the three children smile. The Quagmire triplets were smiling, too, and although I have not researched the Quagmires nearly as much as I have the Baudelaires, I can say with reasonable accuracy that they were smiling for the same reason.

In between bites of banana, Mr. Remora would tell stories, and the children would write the stories down in notebooks, and every so often there would be a test. The stories were very short, and there were a whole lot of them on every conceivable subject. "One day I went to the store to purchase a carton of milk," Mr. Remora would say, chewing on a banana. "When I got home, I poured the milk into a glass and drank it. Then I watched television. The end." Or: "One afternoon a man named Edward got into a green truck and drove to a farm. The farm had geese and cows. The end." Mr. Ramora would tell story after story, and eat banana after banana, and it would get more and more difficult for Violet to pay attention.

I slid my hand back, reaching for his butt pocket. There was a button and I opened it, feeling around. “Sorry,” I said. “Nice butt though.” Brandon smirked, and wriggled his eyebrows at his brother. “You might have the eyes, but I’ve got the butt.” Stone, C. L. (2014-02-24). Thief: The Scarab Beetle Series: #1 (The Academy Scarab Beetle Series) (Kindle Locations 1664-1666). Arcato Publishing. Kindle Edition.

I just can't stop thinking about you. Don't get me wrong. It hasn't always been good thoughts. I mean, at first, you seemed like such a snob and then...everything changed. I was thinking maybe...we could...we could got out. Together. On a date. I mean...I want to go out with you. I'd like to go out with you.

Crazy girl stuff. Resistant to being naked in front of guys, but if you have to be, you want a compliment. Stone, C. L. (2015-01-29). Fake: The Scarab Beetle Series: #3 (The Academy) (Kindle Locations 723-724). Arcato Publishing. Kindle Edition.

Take a left,” Corey said. He pulled out his cell phone, typing something into it. “Oh no,” Blake said, “You’re not calling your buddies for reinforcement.” “I’m logging into the GPS,” he said. “I’m checking for traffic issues so we can avoid delays.” “Oh,” Blake said. “Well, you can do that.” Stone, C. L. (2014-08-09). Liar: The Scarab Beetle Series: #2 (The Academy Scarab Beetle Series) (p. 296). Arcato Publishing. Kindle Edition.

As I’m sure you know, a good night’s sleep helps you perform well in school, and so if you are a student you should always get a good night’s sleep unless you have come to the good part of your book, and then you should stay up all night and let your schoolwork fall by the wayside, a phrase which means “flunk.” In

Every year I try to reread Doris Lessing’s slim 1987 polemic (originally a lecture series), Prisons We Choose to Live Inside. In the book, this “epicist of the female experience,” as the Swedish Academy put it when awarding her the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2007, reminds us how difficult it is to detach ourselves from the mass emotions and social conditions of the age we’re born into; all of us, male and female, are “part of the great comforting illusions, and part illusions, which every society uses to keep up its confidence in itself.

I wanted to call her a bitch. I almost did. But I couldn't get the word out. I started wondering whether that'd be sexist, and then I started thinking about how many thoughts could squeeze into the tiniest pause between words, and then I started thinking that now I was thinking about my thoughts, and also thinking about the fact that I was thinking about my thoughts, and how that could go on forever, as if my first thought had been placed between two mirrors and now there was an infinite, recursive series of thoughts. And then I thought about how everyone else probably thought about thoughts too, and how there were so many thoughts out there, an oppressive consciousness ladled over the globe like a thick, congealing sauce.

Brandon,” Marc said. “Say something so she can hear you.” “You’re in deep shit, Kayli,” Brandon said. “Can he hear me?” I asked Marc. “I can hear you,” Brandon said in my ear, a little fuzzy, like he was standing in another room with the door closed, but I could make out what he was saying. “Just wait until I get a hold of you.” “Raven,” I pretended to plea. “Brandon said he was going to hurt me.” “I’ll kill him,” he said. He jammed his own ear plug into his noggin. “Corey? Yeah. Hit your brother once for me. No, in the dick. No, he won’t hit you back. I promise.” “Cut it out, you guys,” Marc said. “How come I can’t hear Corey?” I asked. “I get Corey,” Raven said. “You get Brandon.” “I want to switch.” “I said stop,” Marc barked at us. Stone, C. L. (2014-02-24). Thief: The Scarab Beetle Series: #1 (The Academy Scarab Beetle Series) (Kindle Locations 5192-5200). Arcato Publishing. Kindle Edition.

If the Baudelaire orphans had been stalks of celery, they would not have been small children in great distress, and if they had been lucky, Carmelita Spats would have not approached their table at this particular moment and delivered another unfortunate message. "Hello, you cakesniffers," she said, "although judging from the baby brat you're more like saladsniffers. I have another message for you from Coach Genghis. I get to be his Special Messenger because I'm the cutest, prettiest, nicest little girl in the whole school." "If you were really the nicest person in the whole school," Isadora said, "you wouldn't make fun of a sleeping infant. But never mind, what is the message?" "It's actually the same as last time," Carmelita said, "but I'll repeat it in case you're too stupid to remember. The three Baudelaire orphans are to report to the front lawn tonight, immediately after dinner." "What?" Klaus asked. "Are you deaf as well as cakesniffy?" Carmelita asked.

Everybody will die, of course, sooner or later. Circus performers will die, and clarinet experts will die, and you and I will die, and there might be a person who lives on your block, right now, who is not looking both ways before he crosses the street and who will die in just a few seconds, all because of a bus. Everybody will die, but very few people want to be reminded of that fact. The

Darling,” she said. She turned to me, squinting her eyes, making her long lashes flicker. “Wait a second, what’s your name, anyway?” “Bambi,” Marc said. “Rachael.”“Aw.” Future shook her head. “Naw, you don’t look like a Rachael.” “Because you’re a Bambi,” Marc said. Stone, C. L. (2014-08-09). Liar: The Scarab Beetle Series: #2 (The Academy Scarab Beetle Series) (pp. 216-217). Arcato Publishing. Kindle Edition.

Duncan kept his hand on Violet's and talked to her about terrible concerts he had attended back when the Quagmire parents were alive, and she was happy to hear his stories. Isadora began working on a poem about libraries and showed Klaus what she had written in her notebook, and Klaus was happy to offer suggestions. And Sunny snuggled down in Violet's lap and chewed on the armrest of her seat, happy to bite something that was so sturdy.

It was an eerie feeling, which is why Violet and Sunny were surprised when Klaus broke the silence by laughing suddenly. "What are you snickering at?" Violet asked. "I just realized something," Klaus said. "We're going to the administrative building without an appointment. We'll have to eat our meals without silverware." "There's nothing funny about that!" Violet said. "What if they serve oatmeal for breakfast? We'll have to scoop it up with our hands." "Oot," Sunny said, which meant "Trust me, it's not that difficult," and at that the Baudelaire sisters joined their brother in laughter. It was not funny, of course, that Nero enforced such terrible punishments, but the idea of eating oatmeal with their hands gave all three siblings the giggles. "Or fried eggs!" Violet said. "What if they serve runny fried eggs?" "Or pancakes, covered in syrup!" Klaus said. "Soup!" Sunny shrieked, and they all broke out in laughter again.

Lincoln grinned. “The Academy owns a number of buildings. There are walkways between them.” I couldn’t take my eyes off the sky folk. “There are people wandering around in the sky, Linc. Explain this to me.” He laughed one of his low, secretive laughs. One that echoed through my entire body. One that told me he adored me. One that somehow I knew, out of everyone in the world, was reserved for me. The laugh that broke my heart. Breathe. “I’m glad you find me amusing. Less laughing, more telling!” He laughed again and I was about a second away from either throwing a punch or throwing myself at him when a woman’s voice caught our attention. “I

A 2016 study published in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America suggested that health care providers may underestimate black patients' pain in part due to a belief that they simply don't actually feel as much pain - a myth that dates all the way back to the days of slavery. For centuries, the claim that black people were biologically different from whites was 'championed by scientists, physicians, and slave owners alike to justify slavery and the inhumane treatment of black men and women in medical research,' the authors wrote. Black people were thought to have 'thicker skulls, less sensitive nervous systems,' and a super-human ability to 'tolerate surgical operations with little, if any, pain at all.' In the first phase of the study, over two hundred white medical students and residents were asked whether a series of statements about differences between black and white patients were true or false. Some of the statements were true, while others - for example, 'blacks' skin is thicker than whites' and 'blacks' nerve endings are less sensitive than whites' - were false. They found that a full half of the respondents thought that one or more the false statements - many of which were 'fantastical in nature' - were possibly, probably, or definitely true. Also, notably, many of them didn't agree with the statements that were actually true; only half of the residents knew that white patients are less likely to have heart disease than black patients are. When asked to read case studies of two patients complaining of pain, one white and one black, the respondents who had endorsed more false beliefs were more likely to believe that the black patient felt less pain, and undertreated them accordingly.