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“Toby, listen. It‘s a catastrophe. Relax!”
“The smell of a rally car, the stink, the shift, the woo, you will never find the recipe for this pong in the Women‘s Weekly but ingredients include petrol, rubber, pollen, dust, orange peel, wrecked banana, armpit, socks, man‘s body.”
“Forgive me, I simply meant to suggest that Father may wish to speak to certain acquaintances from his past. That is to say, before the Saitos‘ detective does. After all, we do not wish any unnecessary misunderstandings to arise.”
“It was as though you had thrown a stone and the stone made a ripple and the ripple returned roaring and toppling as a tidal wave.”
“Of course they turned on you. They turned on you often but they always turned on every one. They turned on themselves, too. If you had three together, two would unite against one, and then the two would start to betray each other. Not often, but often enough for you to take enough cases and start to draw it as a conclusion.”
“Hij vertelde hoe de castreerder achter de dromedaris plaatsnam met twee bakstenen in zijn hand, en de testikels verbrijzelde tussen de stenen. ‘Doet dat geen pijn?‘ had Von Zinzendorf de castreerder gevraagd. Die keek op can zijn werk en schudde zijn hoofd. ‘Helemaal niet,‘ zei hij. ‘Je moet alleen zorgen dat je je vingers er niet tussen krijgt.‘ 😱
“You like to hunt?”
“Yes, man. More than anything. We all hunt in my village. You do not like to hunt?”
“No,” said Robert Jordan. “I do not like to kill animals.”
“With me it is the opposite,” the old man said. “I do not like to kill men.”
“Hoe could something that she could see so clearly not be real? How could the mirror be showing things that were twice as exciting, a hundred times more magical than the dull, workaday world that was all around her?”
“Finally, a solitary figure stood at the end of the pier. When they saw the red of a cigarette, they knew it was a man.”
“Ik zag dat hij een boek in zijn hand had. ‘je hebt een hoek, zie ik? Mooi, jongen. Met een boek kun je zonder bezoek.”
“The cells are still as cold as larders. I asked Miss Ridley, as she led me between the wards, how could it help the women to be kept so cold and hopeless?-to be made ill? She said: ‘We are not here to help them ma‘am. We are here to punish them.”
“Cora didn‘t know what optimistic meant. She asked the other girls that night if they were familiar with the word. None of them had heard it before. She decided that it meant trying.”
“No one will understand, they will think I was just after her for the obvious.”
“The gold caught the ember-light and shone the colour of a human voice.”
Alle wegen leiden naar Rome; - Daar kan geen vergissing bestaan. - Om in die oude stad te komen, - House men slechts de grote baan.
“Zijn haar was gekapt in een dikke kuif waarvan alleen Engelse kappers het geheim bezitten.”
“De vrouw trok de doek weer recht, deed een stap naar achteren en keek Osewoudt aan. Toen pas zag hij dat het zijn moeder was, ontsnapt uit gevangenschap en nu proberend zich in leven te houden door te lopen venten met een mand gerookte paling.”
Heb dit boek toch al tig keer gelezen maar dít was me dus niet eerder opgevallen!
..., and as he drove the Citroën to his apartment he swore bloody murder at the Marine Corps the entire way. I kept my silence. One did not depend on marines for good table manners.
Ik heb steeds dat liedje in mijn hoofd:
Simson Simson alle Filistijnen... Verdwijnen, verdwijnen... Als jij komt
Since 1840, every president elected in a twenty-year cycle has died in office: Harrison, Lincoln, Garfield, McKinley, Harding, and Roosevelt. Yet no president has been assassinated for almost sixty years, thanks to the expertise of the Secret Service.
"She went inside for a sweatshirt. Out of habit, she stopped by the bookshelf in the living room to see if there was a paperback that she could stuff into her pocket for emergencies - you never knew when you might need a book to entertain and comfort and distract you in the day's empty places."
Here is the mountain above the endless coral seas, the sun rising over a forest filled with flowers, where I went te tell a woman that she would die. #work #anotherdayattheoffice (p52)
I bought this book and the lovely bookmark in Granada, in the Alhambra-shop. Lovely set of the writer's adventures and (ancient) legends concerning the Alhambra. Reading takes me back there instantly!
A quote: "I observed, however, that she had taken care to clip his wings, to prevent all future soarings, a precaution which I mention for the benefit of all those who have truant lovers or wandering husbands."
(p 64)
"Did you hear about Belsen!"
"Only vaguely," said Miller. "My generation wasn't told much about all that. Nobody wanted to tell us anything."
(...)
"But you want to know now?"
"We have to know sooner or later."
"...what he knew now, (...) that there was a birth into maturity beyond having children or losing your parents. It was the birth of an amputated love."
"Out of nowhere, lines came to me from a B movie. The truth? (Accompanied by a curled lip.) You couldn't HANDLE the truth!" (p16)
Wat een ontzettende misser om A few good men een B-film te noemen!!
De eerste 90 pagina's zijn heel bijzonder! Je volgt twee takken van de familie: een blijft in Afrika en wordt rijk en invloedrijk, de ander wordt als slaaf verkocht en gaat naar de katoenplantages in Amerika. Dank @Gnoe voor boek en boekenlegger! Nu snel verder lezen :-)
Reading was my escape and my comfort, mu consolation, my stimulant of choice: reading for the pure pleasure of it, for the beautiful stillness that surrounds you when you hear an author's words reverberating in your head. #p13