Eyre Affair Quotes

Take no heed of her.... She reads a lot of books.

Don't ever call me mad, Mycroft. I'm not mad. I'm just ... well, differently moraled, that's all.

Religion isn't the cause of wars, it's the excuse.

Governments and fashions come and go but Jane Eyre is for all time.

Literary detection and firearms don't really go hand in hand; pen mighter than the sword and so forth.

True and baseless evil is as rare as the purest good--and we all know how rare that is...

If you expect me to believe that a lawyer wrote A Midsummer Night's Dream, I must be dafter than I look.

I shouldn't believe anything I say, if I were you-and that includes what I just told you.

Ordinary adults don't like children to speak of things that are denied them by their own gray minds.

What is there to forgive?. . .Ignore forgive and concentrate on living. Life for you is short; far too short to allow small jealousies to infringe on the happiness which can be yours only for the briefest of times.

The cleanest souls are the easiest to soil.

Individual words, sounds, squiggles on paper with no meanings other than those with which our imagination can clothe them.

The barriers between reality and fiction are softer than we think; a bit like a frozen lake. Hundreds of people can walk across it, but then one evening a thin spot develops and someone falls through; the hole is frozen over by the following morning.

Maybe those sorts of yes-or-no life-and-death decisions are easier to make because they are so black and white. I can cope with them because it's easier. Human emotions, well. . .they're just a fathomless collection of grays and I don't do so well on the midtones.

We all make mistakes at some time in our lives, some more than others. It is only when the cost is counted in human lives that people really take notice.

Cash is always the deciding factor in such matters of moral politics; nothing ever gets done unless motivated by commerce or greed.

Apart from the faint odor of ink that pervaded the scene, it might have been real.

Without a yardstick sometimes the high points can be taken for granted.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, O’er a plan to venge myself upon that cursed Thursday Next- This Eyre affair, so surprising, gives my soul such loath despising, Here I plot my temper rising, rising from my jail of text. “Get me out!” I said, advising, “Pluck me from this jail of text- or I swear I’ll wring your neck!

The industrial age had only just begun; the planet had reached its Best Before date.

I was in '78 recently," he announced. "I brought you this." He handed me a single by the Beatles. I didn't recognize the title. "Didn't they split in '70?" "Not always. How are things?

The Goliath Corporation was to altruism what Genghis Khan was to soft furnishings.

Did the memory erasure device work, Uncle?" "The what?" "The memory erasure device. You were testing it when I last saw you." "Don't know what you're talking about, dear girl.

The name is Schitt," he replied. "Jack Schitt.

I don't believe in coincidences." "Neither do I. That's a coincidence, isn't it?

We were developing a machine that used egg white, heat and sugar to synthesize methanol when a power surge caused an implosion. Owens was meringued. By the time we chipped him out the poor chap had expired.

Sometimes, a word succeeds beyond the wildest dreams of its creators, like a virus sent into the world to infect common speech.

Words are like leaves,. . .like people really, fond of their own society.

Good evening,” said the barman. “Why is a raven like a writing desk?” “Because Poe wrote on both?

I wished I could share my own optimism.

I think Wordsworth was as surprised to see me as I was him. It can't be usual to go to your favorite memory only to find someone already there, admiring the view ahead of you.

Goodness is weakness, pleasantness is poisonous, serenity is mediocrity and kindness is for losers. The best reason for committing loathsome and detestable acts – and let’s face it, I am considered something of an expert in this field – is purely for their own sake. Monetary gain is all very well, but it dilutes the taste of wickedness to a lower level that is obtainable by almost anyone with an overdeveloped sense of avarice. True and baseless evil is as rare as the purest good –

We try to make art perfect because we never manage it in real life

If only life were that simple; if one could jump to the good parts and flick through the bad —

They had just digested a recent meal of prepositions and were happily farting out apostrophes and ampersands; the air was heav'y with th'em&.

I was born on a Thursday, hence the name. My brother was born on a Monday and they called him Anton--go figure. My mother was called Wednesday, but was born on a Sunday--I don't know why--and my father had no name at all--his identity and existence had been scrubbed by the ChronoGuard after he went rogue. To all intents and purposes he didn't exist at all. It didn't matter. He was always Dad to me...

Bowden Cable is the sort of honest and dependable operative that is the backbone of SpecOps. They never win commendations or medals and the public has no knowledge of them at all. They are all worth ten of people like me.

The real world is a book in bad need of an editor

They’d never get here in time. It’s easy. A lobotomized monkey could do it.” “And where are we going to find a lobotomized monkey at this time of night?

For my father John Standish Fforde 1920-2000 Who never knew I was to be published but would have been most proud nonetheless--and not a little surprised.

There are two schools of thought about the resilience of time. The first is that time is highly volatile, with every small event altering the possible outcome of the earth's future. The other view is that time is rigid, and no matter how hard you try, it will always spring back toward a determined present. Myself, I do not worry about such trivialities. I simply sell ties to anyone who wants to buy one...

If you want your fridge-freezer and your car and a nice house and asphalt on the roads and a health service, then thank the weapons business. Thank the war economy that drives us to this.

Miltons were, on the whole, the most enthusiastic poet followers. A flick through the London telephone directory would yield about four thousand John Miltons, two thousand William Blakes, a thousand or so Samuel Colleridges, five hundred Percy Shelleys, the same of Wordsworth and Keats, and a handful of Drydens. Such mass name-changing could have problems in law enforcement. Following an incident in a pub where the assailant, victim, witness, landlord, arresting officer and judge had all been called Alfred Tennyson, a law had been passed compelling each namesake to carry a registration number tattooed behind the ear. It hadn't been well received--few really practical law-enforcement measures ever are.

Governments and fashions come and go but Jane Eyre is for all time. I would give everything to ensure the novel's survival.

Goodness is weakness, pleasantness is poisonous, serenity is mediocrity, and kindness is for losers.

The best reason for committing loathsome and detestable acts--and let's face it, I am considered something of an expert in this field--is purely for their own sake. Monetary gain is all very well, but it dilutes the taste of wickedness to a lower level that is obtainable by anyone with an overdeveloped sense of avarice. True and baseless evil is as rare as the purest good--and we all know how rare that is...

No one would argue that we owe a debt of gratitude to the Goliath Corporation. They helped us to rebuild after the Second War and it should not be forgotten. Of late, however, it seems as though the Goliath Corporation is falling far short of its promises of fairness and altruism. We are finding ourselves now in the unfortunate position of continuing to pay back a debt that has long since been paid--with interest...

Mücken haben die blaue Ziege gestochen.

Take no heed of her," explained Jones apologetically. "She reads a lot of books.

when my mind was young and the barrier between reality and make-believe had not yet hardened into the shell that cocoons us in adult life.

Inspector Turner’s hope to marry a wealthy Mr. Right and leave the service stayed just that—a hope—as so often Mr. Right turned out to be either Mr. Liar, Mr. Drunk or Mr. Already Married.

The Special Operations Network was instigated to handle policing duties considered either too unusual or too specialized to be tackled by the regular force. There were thirty departments in all, starting at the more mundane Neighborly Disputes (SO-30) and going onto Literary Detectives (SO-27) and Art Crime (SO-24). Anything below SO-20 was restricted information, although it was common knowledge that the ChronoGuard was SO-12 and Antiterrorism SO-9. It is rumored that SO-1 was the department that polices the SpecOps themselves. Quite what the others do is anyone's guess. What is known is that the individual operatives themselves are mostly ex-military or ex-police and slightly unbalanced. 'If you want to be a SpecOp,' the saying goes, 'act kinda weird...

The actor in with them was Graham Huxtable. He was putting on a felonious one-man performance of Twelfth Night. Persistent offender. He’ll be fined and bound over. His Malvolio is truly frightful.

There is no point in expending good money on the pursuit of an engine that can power aircraft without propellers. What is wrong with airships anyway? They have borne mankind aloft for over a hundred relatively accident-free years and I see no reason to impugn their popularity...

Outside Styx's apartment was not the first time Rochester and I had met, or would it be the last. We first encountered each other at Haworth House in Yorkshire when my mind was young and the barrier between reality and make-believe had not yet hardened into the shell that cocoons us in adult life. The barrier was soft, pliable and, for a moment, thanks to the kindness of a stranger and the power of a good storytelling voice, I made the short journey--and returned.

GSD?’ murmured Mycroft. ‘What in heaven’s name is that?’ ‘Global Standard Deity,’ answered Polly. ‘It’s a mixture of all the religions. I think it’s meant to stop religious wars.

Much that we had appreciated about one another had been left unsaid. In humor, in life and in love, we had understood.

By spiritual I merely mean that I feel I have good in my soul and am inclined to follow the correct course of action given a prescribed set of circumstances. Do you understand?

I think that you could have used your vast intellect far more usefully by serving mankind instead of stealing it. -Mycroft "Where's the fun in that? Goodness is weakness, pleasantness is poisonous, serenity is mediocrity and kindness is for losers. The best reason for committing Loathsome and detestable acts - and let's face it, I am considered something of an expert in this field - is purely for their own sake. Monetary gain is all very well, but it dilutes the taste of wickedness to a lower level that is obtainable by almost anyone with an overdeveloped sense of avarice. True and baseless evil is as rare as the purest good." -Acheron

Perhaps it was as well that she had been unconscious for four weeks. She had missed the aftermath, the SO-1 reports, the recriminations, Snood and Tamworth's funerals. She missed everything...except the blame. It was waiting for her when she awoke...

He jerked a thumb in the direction of the baby on the stretcher, who had put his fingers in his mouth and stopped yelling. ‘That was the driver. Before the accident he was thirty-one. By the time we got here he was eight – in a few hours he’ll be nothing more than a damp patch on the blanket.

Funding for the Special Operations Network comes directly from the government. Most work is centralized, but all of the SpecOps divisions have local representatives to keep a watchful eye on any provincial problems. They are administered by local commanders, who liaise with the national offices for information exchange, guidance and policy decisions. Like any other big government department, it looks good on paper but is an utter shambles. Petty infighting and political agendas, arrogance and sheer bloody-mindedness almost guarantees that the left hand doesn't know what the right is doing.

« -...sono andato nella Londra del 1610 e ho scoperto che Shakespeare era solo un attore con un secondo lavoro potenzialmente imbarazzante come ricettatore a Stratford. Nulla di strano che lo tenesse nascosto - lo farebbe chiunque. -Chi li ha scritti allora? Bacon? Marlowe? -No, è insorto un problemino. Vedi, nessuno ha mai sentito parlare di quelle opere, figuriamoci averle scritte. Non capivo. -Cosa vuoi dire? Non ci sono? -Proprio così. Non esistono. Non sono mai state scritte. Né da lui, né da altri. -Scusate- si intromise Landen, che ne aveva abbastanza -ma abbiamo visto il Riccardo III sei settimane fa. -Certo- disse mio padre -Il tempo è scardinato alla grande. Naturalmente bisognava intervenire. Ho portato con me una copia delle opere complete e le ho date all'attore Shakespeare nel 1592 perché le distribuisse secondo uno schema preciso. Questo soddisfa la tua domanda? »

How was New Zealand?’ ‘Green and full of sheep,

Religion isn’t the cause of wars, it’s the excuse.

a curious sense of uncomfortable familiarity, the feeling you might get when a long-forgotten school bully hails you as an old friend.

Richard III was one of those plays that could repeal the law of diminishing returns; it could be enjoyed over and over again.

Even I was not immune to the passion of the battle. When I first went to the peninsula I was excited by the war—I could feel the insidious hand of nationalism holding me upright and smothering my reason.

You’ve got a face longer than a Dickens novel. What’s the problem?

Ordinary adults don’t like children to speak of things that are denied them by their own grey minds.

There’s weird shit about; take it for luck.’ ‘I’m beginning to think there’s no such thing.’ ‘My point precisely.

Maybe those sorts of yes or no life-and-death decisions are easier to make because they are so black and white. I can cope with them because it’s easier. Human emotions, well … they’re just a fathomless collection of greys and I don’t do so well on the mid-tones.

Schmitt didn’t give a crap

Shit doesn’t give a crap

He patted te large book that was the Prose Portl and looked at Mycroft’s genetically engineered bookworms. They were on rest & recuperation at present in their goldfish bowl; they had just digested a recent meal of prepositions and were happily farting out apostrophes and ampersands

Intentamos que el arte sea perfecto porque en la vida real jamás lo logramos

Bah!" exclaimed Rochester. "Pixies both! Begone with you; we will talk later!

into which he placed a large-print copy of Wordsworth’s poem “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud.” To this he added the bookworms, who busily got to work. They slithered over the text, their small bodies and unfathomable collective id unconsciously examining every sentence, word, vowel sound and syllable. They probed deeply into the historical, biographical and geographical allusions, then they explored the inner meanings hidden within the meter and rhythm and juggled ingeniously with subtext, content and inflection. After that they made up a few verses of their own and converted the result into binary. Lakes! Daffodils! Solitude! Memory! whispered the worms excitedly as Mycroft carefully closed the book and locked it.

They keep an eye on forgery, illegal dealing and overtly free thespian interpretations. The actor in with them was Graham Huxtable. He was putting on a felonious one-man performance of Twelfth Night. Persistent offender. He’ll be fined and bound over. His Malvolio is truly frightful.

None of us were surprised when he switched to a career of crime. He was something of a lech. He made one of the students pregnant.

Thylacines,

Ordinary adults don’t like children to speak of things that are denied them by their own gray minds.

The name’s Schitt,” he replied. “Jack Schitt.

He was shot dead in the old town during a bookbuy that went wrong.

Words are all very well,” I replied coolly, suddenly enjoying the SO-5 woman-of-mystery stuff, “but a nine-millimeter really gets to the root of the problem.

People say we’re just Renaissancites causing trouble, but I’ve seen Baroque kids, Raphaelites, Romantics and Mannerists here tonight. It’s a massive show of classical artistic unity against these frivolous bastards who cower beneath the safety of the word ‘progress.’ It’s not just—

It’s a whole new different alternative kettle of fish here, y’know.

I’m not mad, I’m just . . . well, differently moraled, that’s all.

When were our brows bound?” yelled the audience. “Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths,” continued Richard, ignoring them completely.

He thought for a moment. “Perhaps the Bennett family could do with some thinning . . .” “Pride and Prejudice!?” yelled Mycroft. “You heartless monster!

had been with Boswell and SO-27 for eight years, living in a Maida Vale apartment with Pickwick, a regenerated pet dodo left over from the days when reverse extinction was all the rage

no one was taking any chances since a deranged individual had broken into Chawton, threatening to destroy all Jane Austen’s letters unless his frankly dull and uneven Austen biography was published.

I took a sip of my drink. It tasted like old horse blankets soaked in urine.

We were developing a machine that used egg white, heat and sugar to synthesize methanol when a power surge caused an implosion. Owens was meringued. By the time we chipped him out the poor chap had expired.

. . . There are two schools of thought about the resilience of time. The first is that time is highly volatile, with every small event altering the possible outcome of the earth’s future. The other view is that time is rigid, and no matter how hard you try, it will always spring back toward a determined present. Myself, I do not worry about such trivialities. I simply sell ties to anyone who wants to buy one... Tie seller in Victoria, June 1983

We all make mistakes at some time in our lives, some more than others. It is only when the cost is counted in human lives that people really take notice.

Have you been attending church in London, Sis?” “I don’t really have the time, Joff.” “We make time, Sis.” I sighed. He was right.

If you want your fridge freezer and your car, a nice house, and asphalt on the roads, and a health service, then thank the weapons business. Thank the war economy that drives us to this and thank [a major corporation]. [War] is good, good for England, and especially good for the economy. You deride the weapons business, but without it we would be a 10th rate country struggling to maintain a standard of living anywhere anywhere near that of our european neighbors.

They were my aunt and uncle; I loved them deeply, although both were mad as pants.

I had learned from my mother’s many letters that Mycroft had invented a method for sending pizzas by fax