Linus Baker Quotes

Mr. Baker,” Lucy said sweetly. “Can I get you something to drink? Juice, perhaps? Tea?” He leaned forward and dropped his voice. “The blood of a baby born in a cemetery under a full moon?” “Lucy,” Mr. Parnassus warned. Lucy stared at Linus. “Whatever you want, I can give you,” he whispered.

But Linus Baker was a soft man with a heart longing for home.

And as for girls, his mother needn’t have worried. By then, Linus had already noticed how his skin had tingled when his seventeen-year-old neighbor, Timmy Wellington, mowed the lawn without his shirt on. No, girls weren’t going to bring about Linus Baker’s downfall.

the thought of being lonely didn't even cross Linus Baker's mind. After all, there were people with far less than what he had. There was a roof over his head and rabbit food in his belly, and his pajamas were monogrammed.

Underneath the photograph, in blocky letters, was a name. LUCY. “A boy named Lucy,” Linus said. “That’s certainly a first. I wonder why they chose … the name … Lucy…” The last word came out choked. There, written in clear English, was exactly the reason why. The file read: NAME: LUCIFER (NICKNAME LUCY) AGE: SIX YEARS, SIX MONTHS, SIX DAYS (AT TIME OF THIS REPORT) HAIR: BLACK EYE COLOR: BLUE/RED MOTHER: UNKNOWN (BELIEVED DECEASED) FATHER: THE DEVIL SPECIES OF MAGICAL YOUTH: ANTICHRIST Linus Baker fainted dead away.

Lucy and Talia, you are assigned to Mr. Baker.” Lucy and Talia turned their heads slowly in unison, matching smiles on their faces that sent a cold chill down Linus’s spine. He sputtered. “Perhaps we should—I mean, there’s really no need for—I think we should—oh dear.

Linus Baker sintió por Arthur Parnassus un amor más profundo del que habría podido expresar con palabras.

Life, Linus Baker knew, came down to what we made from it.

Life, Linus Baker knew, came down to what we made from it. It was about the choices, both big and small.

If one were to ask if Linus Baker was lonely, he would have scrunched up his face in surprise. The thought would be foreign, almost shocking. And though the smallest of lies hurt his head and made his stomach twist, there was a chance he would still say no, even though he was, and almost desperately so. And maybe part of him would believe it. He'd accepted long ago that some people, no matter how good their heart was or how much love they had to give, would always be alone. It was their lot in life, and Linus had figured out, at the age of twenty-seven, that it seemed to be that way for him. Oh, there was no specific event that brought along this line of thinking. It was just that he felt. . . dimmer than others. Like he was faded in a crystal-clear world. He wasn't meant to be seen.

You are Linus Baker, aren’t you?” He hoped so, because he didn’t know how to be anyone else. “I am.

Linus Baker said, “You’re a phoenix.” “I am,” Arthur said simply. “And I believe I’m the last of my kind. I never knew my parents. I’ve never met anyone else like me.

You’re very dear, Linus Baker. There’s a surface to you that’s hard but cracked. Dig a little deeper, and there is all this life teeming wildly. It’s a conundrum.” He flushed. “I don’t know about all that.

Because it wasn't where I belonged" "Where do you belong, Linus?" And with the last of his courage, Linus Baker said, "Here. With you. If you'll have me. Ask me again, please. I beg you, ask me to stay again

Oh dear,” Linus Baker said, wiping the sweat from his brow. “This is most unusual.” That was an understatement. He watched in rapt wonder as an eleven-year-old girl named Daisy levitated blocks of wood high above her head.

The file read: NAME: LUCIFER (NICKNAME LUCY) AGE: SIX YEARS, SIX MONTHS, SIX DAYS (AT TIME OF THIS REPORT) HAIR: BLACK EYE COLOR: BLUE/RED MOTHER: UNKNOWN (BELIEVED DECEASED) FATHER: THE DEVIL SPECIES OF MAGICAL YOUTH: ANTICHRIST Linus Baker fainted dead away.

Does he always talk like that?” David whisper-shouted to Arthur. “Yes,” Arthur said as Linus jabbed him with an elbow. “I happen to admire it when he does, but then I’m very partial when it comes to Linus Baker, including his pearls of wisdom.” “I’m like an oyster,” Linus said proudly. “Might not look like much, but open me up and there’s hidden treasure within.” He frowned. “Is it me, or did that not sound as complimentary as I thought it would?” “I would care for you even if you were an oyster,” Arthur promised him.

Linus Baker allowed himself to be selfish. Just this once. He took Arthur’s hand and stood slowly as Nat told him to smile even though his heart was breaking. Arthur pulled him close, and they began to sway back and forth. “Smile and maybe tomorrow,” Arthur whispered in his ear. “You’ll see the sun come shining through for you.

Arthur arched an eyebrow. "Someone like me?" "You know what I mean." "Then why can't you say it?" Linus's chest hitched. "A magical creature." "Yes." "Perhaps the rarest of them all." "So it would seem." "You're . . ." "Say it. Please. Let me hear you say it. I want to hear it from you." [...] Linus Baker said, "You're a pheonix.

No es mi hogar —reconoció Linus en voz baja—. Yo vivo en la ciudad. Helen soltó un resoplido. —Nuestro hogar no es siempre la casa donde residimos. Son también las personas con las que elegimos convivir. Aunque no resida usted en la isla, no me venga con que no es su hogar. Su burbuja, señor Baker, ha estallado. ¿Por qué quiere que se forme otra en torno a usted?

He’s six years old.” “He proclaimed himself to be hellfire and darkness when he threatened me!” Mr. Parnassus chuckled. “It was his way of saying hello. He’s got a morbid sense of humor for one so young. It’s endearing once you get used to it.” Linus gaped at him. Mr. Parnassus sighed as he leaned forward. “Look, Mr. Baker. I know it’s—a lot to swallow, but I’ve had Lucy for a year. There were plans to … well. Let’s just say this was a last resort. Regardless of his parentage, he is a child.

Underneath the photograph, in blocky letters, was a name. LUCY. “A boy named Lucy,” Linus said. “That’s certainly a first. I wonder why they chose … the name … Lucy…” The last word came out choked. There, written in clear English, was exactly the reason why. The file read: NAME: LUCIFER (NICKNAME LUCY) AGE: SIX YEARS, SIX MONTHS, SIX DAYS (AT TIME OF THIS REPORT) HAIR: BLACK EYE COLOR: BLUE/RED MOTHER: UNKNOWN (BELIEVED DECEASED) FATHER: THE DEVIL SPECIES OF MAGICAL YOUTH: ANTICHRIST Linus Baker fainted dead away.

I can,” Linus agreed. “One doesn’t often meet the Antichrist.” Mr. Parnassus looked at him sharply. “We don’t use that word here. I understand that you have a job to do, Mr. Baker, but I am the master of this house, and you will abide by my rules. Is that clear?

Linus Baker was not a fool. He prided himself in that regard. He was well aware of his limitations as a human being. When it was dark, he preferred to be locked safely inside his house, wearing his monogrammed pajamas, a record playing on the Victrola, holding a warm drink in his hands. That being said, Calliope was essentially his only friend in the entire world. So when he climbed out of the car, rocks crunching under his feet in the driveway, it was because he understood that sometimes, one had to do unsavory things for those one cared about.

It's not my home," Linus admitted quietly. "I live in the city." Helen scoffed. "A home isn't always the house we live in. It's also the people we choose to surround ourselves with. You may not live on the island, but you can't tell me it's not your home. Your bubble, Mr. Baker. It's been popped. Why would you allow it to grow around you again?

What's the point of living if you only do it how others want you to?" "It's the best we can do." She scoffed. "And this is your best? THIS?" He said nothing as the whistle of a coming train came from down the tracks. "Let me tell you something, Linus Baker," she said, hands clenched on the top of the driver's door. "The are moments in your life, moments when chances have to be taken. It's scary because there is always the possibility of failure. I know that. I KNOW THAT. Because once upon a time, I took a chance on a man that I had failed before. I was SCARED. I was TERRIFIED. I thought I might lose everything. But I wasn't living, then. The life I had before wasn't living. It was getting by. And I will never regret the chances I took. And you're making yours.

If one were to ask if Linus Baker was lonely, he would have scrunched up his face in surprise. The thought would be foreign, almost shocking. And though the smallest of lies hurt his head and made his stomach twist, there was a chance he would still say no, even though he was, and almost desperately so. And maybe part of him would believe it. He'd accepted long ago that some people, no matter how good their heart was or how much love they had to give, would always be alone. It was their lot in life, and Linus had figured out, at the age of twenty-seven, that it seemed to be that way for him. Oh, there was no specific event that brought along this line of thinking. It was just that he felt...dimmer than others. Like he was faded in a crystal-clear world. He wasn't meant to be seen.

If one were to ask if Linus Baker was lonely, he would have scrunched up his face in surprise. The thought would be foreign, almost shocking. And though the smallest of lies hurt his head and made his stomach twist, there was a chance he would still say no, even though he was, and almost desperately so. And maybe part of him would believe it. He'd accepted long ago that some people, no matter how good their heart was or how much love they had to give, would always be alone. It was their lot in life, and Linus had figured out, at the age of twenty-seven, that it seems to be that way for him. Oh, there was no specific event that brought along this line of thinking. It was just that he felt...dimmer than others. Like he was faded in a crystal-clear world. He wasn't meant to be seen.

Ay, mi querido señor Baker. No deja usted de maravillarme. Un orgullo extraño invadió a Linus. —Hago lo que puedo. —Qué duda cabe —dijo el director secándose los ojos. Se quedaron callados de nuevo, y Linus se sintió más cómodo que nunca desde que había llegado a la isla. No se atrevió a examinar a fondo la sensación por miedo a que le revelara cosas que no estaba preparado para saber, pero sabía que estaba ahí.

¡A lo mejor podríamos ser todos villanos! —barbotó Chauncey. —Tú no sabes ser malo —le dijo Talia—. Eres demasiado buena persona. —¡No! ¡Puedo ser malo! ¡Fijaos! —Sus ojos revolotearon, desorbitados, hasta posarse en Linus—. ¡Señor Baker! ¡No le haré la colada la semana que viene! ¡Ja, ja, ja! —Acto seguido, con un susurro de pánico, añadió—: Era broma. Sí que se la haré. Por favor, deje que se la haga. No me prive de eso.

Why have you never seen the ocean?" Phee asked as Linus stared in horror at Lucy. "It's always there. It never goes anywhere. It's too big to move." [. . .] "I've just...I've never had time," Linus said, feeling dizzy. "I-too many responsibilities. I have an important job and-" Theodore attacked the meat Ms. Chapelwhite had set on his plate growling low in his throat. "Arthur says that we should always make time for the things we like," Talia said. "If we don't, we might forget how to be happy. Are you not happy, Mr. Baker?

Mr. Baker?” she asked innocently. “Wouldn’t you like something more than just the salad?” “No,” he said. “Thank you. I’m quite fine.” She hummed under her breath. “You sure? A man of your size can’t live on rabbit food alone.” “Talia,” Mr. Parnassus said. “Leave Mr. Baker—” “It’s because of my size,” Linus interjected, not wanting someone to speak for him again. He was in charge here, after all. And the sooner they knew that, the better. “What’s wrong with your size?” Talia asked. He flushed. “There’s too much of it.” She frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with being round.” He stabbed a tomato. “I’m not—” “I’m round.

Change often starts with the smallest of whisper. Like-minded people building it up to a roar.

Se qualcuno avesse chiesto a Linus Baker se si sentiva solo, lui avrebbe risposto con una smorfia sorpresa. Il pensiero gli era del tutto estraneo, quasi scioccante. E sebbene anche la più piccola delle bugie gli facesse venire l'emicrania e il mal di stomaco, c'era comunque la possibilità che alla domanda avrebbe risposto di no. Ovviamente lo era. Era disperatamente solo. Forse una parte di lui sarebbe persino stata convinta di dire la verità. Ormai da tempo aveva accettato che certe persone, a prescindere da quanto fosse buono il loro cuore o di quanto amore avessero da offrire, erano destinate a rimanere sole. La vita aveva quello in serbo per loro. All'età di ventisette anni, Linus aveva capito di appartenere a quella categoria di persone. Oh, non che si fosse verificato chissà quale traumatico evento. Semplicemente si sentiva... meno luminoso degli altri. Come una lampadina a risparmio energetico in un mondo a mille watt. Nessuno l'avrebbe mai notato.

If one were to ask if Linus Baker was lonely, he would have scrunched up his face in surprise. The thought would be foreign, almost shocking. And though the smallest of lies hurt his head and made his stomach twist, there was a chance he would still say no, even though he was, and almost desperately so. And maybe some part of him would believe it. He'd accepted long ago that some people, no matter how good their heart was or how much love they had to give, would always be alone. It was their lot in life, and Linus had figured out, at the age of twenty-seven, that it seemed to be that way for him. Oh, there was no specific event that brought along this line of thinking. It was just that he felt... dimmer than others. Like he was faded in a crystal-clear world. He wasn't meant to be seen.