Category: Quotations Page 15 of 31

Highlights from June: Lines Worth Repeating

Highlights from the Month
Whoops! Knew I forgot something last week.

I’m citing more audiobooks here than I usually do. So, let me again stress that punctuation, sentence/paragraph breaks, and so on are guesswork on my part.

Attachments

Attachments by Rainbow Rowell

Lincoln checked out the kitchen. The fridge was new, but the rest of the room did indeed know the differene between Red Skelton and Red Buttons.

“I don’t know if I even believe in that anymore. The fith guy. The perfect guy. The one. I’ve lost faith in ‘the’.”

“How do you feel about ‘a’ and ‘an’?”

“Indifferent.”

“So you’re considering a life without articles?”

“I’m sort of…coming off a bad relationship.”

“When did it end?”

“Slightly before it started.”


Adult Assembly Required

Adult Assembly Required by Abbi Waxman

“I know it’s hard to imagine right now, but Los Angeles does have different seasons. There are three days of spring every May, an unpredictable and unpleasantly hot summer from then until three days of crisp and lovely fall sometime in November, then an unpredictable and unpleasantly chilly winter until the three-day spring rolls around again.”

Laura laughed. “Well, New York isn’t much better: Spring and fall last a month each and make you certain there’s no better city on earth, then summer and winter are brutal and exhausting. Precisely when you decide it’s time to leave once and for all, spring or fall shows up and you forget the pain all over again.”

When the body experiences a sudden shock, it actually freezes for one twenty-fifth of a second and then deploys intense psychological curiosity, mobilizing every neuron and nerve, every sense, every possible input to work out exactly what just happened. In a microsecond or two the brain gathers the intel, sorts it, analyzes it, cross-references it, and is ready to issue directions for what to do next. It’s a miracle, really, and while it might not definitively prove the existence of God, it certainly deserves an enthusiastic round of applause.


How to Take Over the World

How to Take Over the World: Practical Schemes and Scientific Solutions for the Aspiring Supervillain by Author

Are Shakespeare’s plays truly the greatest in the English language? Shakespeare scholars certainly think so. But I’ve actually read some of them, so I speak with authority when I say that his plays are okay, I guess? But it’s hard to argue they couldn’t be improved upon. For example, did you know that not once in Shakespeare’s works does even a single character gain access to a giant robot suit, much less employ it to lay waste to their enemies? Academics will argue that their beloved Bard captures the very heart of the human condition with sublime nuance and rapturous magnificence, but any conception of humanity that excludes the ever-present desire to possess a robot large enough to climb inside and which also fires lasers out of its eyes and missiles out of its hands is one that feels somewhat blinkered.


Crazy in Poughkeepsie

Crazy in Poughkeepsie by Daniel Pinkwater

“Tell me if I get this right. The way to get there is just to drive along without any kind of plan, taking various turns on the spur of the moment.”

“With the right attitude.”

“And the right attitude is…”

“Assuming we’ll arrive.”

“Shouldn’t we consult the global positioning thingie?” Vern Chuckoff asked.

“We don’t have one,” Maurice said. “This car is pre-digital, but there’s a blue light that comes on when we are on the Interstate.”

“The Interstate Highway System, which was just being completed when this car was built?” Vern asked.

“I think it’s more likely to be the system of virtual or quasi-imaginary roads or routes that exists in between the state of so-called reality in which we operate and some other states of existence of which we are ordinarily unaware,” Molly said.


We Are Legion (We Are Bob)

We Are Legion (We Are Bob) by Dennis E. Taylor

We took a minute to enjoy the joke. Belly laughs are one of the best things about sentience and you should never miss the chance for one.


Against All Odds

Against All Odds by Jeffrey H. Haskell

Being blown out into space was on the top of every spacer’s list of “how not to die.”

Back on the O-Deck, he stopped next to Jennings before entering the bridge. He gave her a nod and she snapped to attention.
“Captain on deck,” she bellowed. In his experience, Marines loved yelling at anyone, especially the Navy. It didn’t surprise him at all to see her grin as he stepped through.

She hadn’t really known Commander Stanislaw that well but having him react so was surprising, even though doctors had a long history of acting like they knew better than everyone else.


Movieland

Movieland by Author

“The ME called with her autopsy report on [name withheld],” he said. “I learned that getting a shotgun blast in the face and driving off a cliff can kill you.”

“Did you reach them?”

“Yeah, an ADA named Joel Goldman, I got his take on the possibility that Honig hired a gunsel to take out Kim Spivey.”
“A gunsel?”

“It’s the same as a gunman, but more fun to say.”


The Border

The Border by Don Winslow

It’s funny, he thinks, how the big decisions in your life don’t always follow a big moment or a big change, but just seem to settle on you like an inevitability, something you didn’t decide at all but has always been decided for you.

Barrera made billions of dollars, created and ruled a freaking empire, and what does he have to show for it?

A dead child, an ex-wife who doesn’t come to his wake, a young trophy widow, twin sons who will grow up without their father, a baseball, some smelly old boxing gloves and a suit he never wore. And no one, not one of the hundreds of people [at his funeral], can think of one nice story to tell about him. And that’s the guy who won.

EI Señor. El Patroón. The Godfather.

In a better world, the movies that play on the inside of his eyelids would be features, the product of a screenwriter’s imagination and a director’s style, but in Chuy’s world they are documentaries; memories, you could call them, except they don’t flow like remembrance but are choppy cuts, flashes of surrealism that are all too real.

They are of flayed bodies and severed heads.

Dead children.

Corpses mutilated, others burned in fifty-five-gallon drums, and the memories reside in his nose as well as his eyes. And in his ears, as he can still hear—can’t stop hearing, really—the screams, the pleas for mercy, the shrill taunting laughter that was sometimes his own.

“You got kids?”

“No,” Cirello says. “You missin’ out.”

“I figure I got time.”

“We all figure we got time,” Darnell says. “Ain’t true. Time got us. Time undefeated, man. You never beat it. You wanna know about time, ask a convict. We experts on the subject of time.”

Eddie Ruiz stayed in the witness protection program for about thirty-seven minutes.

Which is about the time it took him to scope out St. George, Utah, and say, “I don’t think so.”

Yeah, a lot of the homeless are addicts, but most addicts aren’t homeless.

Jacqui has learned this on the blocks and in the parks and housing projects where she scores and shoots up. Most of the junkies out there with her have jobs—they’re roofers and carpet layers, or auto mechanics, or they work at one of the few factories that survived after IBM pulled out. There are housewives shooting up because it’s cheaper than the Oxy pills they got hooked on, there are high school kids, their teachers, people who drive down from even smaller towns upstate to score.

You have homeless like her who stink of body odor and you have suburban queens who smell of Mary Kay products and pay for their habits from their Amway earnings, and you have everything in between.

Welcome to Heroin Nation, 2016.

One nation, under the influence.

With liberty and justice for all.

Amen.

(Image by DaModernDaVinci from Pixabay)

The Friday 56 for 7/8/22: The Self-Made Widow By Fabian Nicieza

The Friday 56This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
The Friday 56 Grab a book, any book.
The Friday 56 Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
The Friday 56 Find a snippet, short and sweet.
The Friday 56 Post it.

from Page 56 of:
The Self-Made Widow

The Self-Made Widow by Fabian Nicieza

At 7 in the morning on Monday, Kenny sat in a makeup chair before his segment on Fox & Friends. He had been on the network often enough that he’d lost any sense of the jitters. The segment went smoothly. The negative was that clearly none of them had read the advance galley of his book, but the positive was that they let him do the bulk of the talking during his segment.

As he left the studio on Sixth Avenue, Kenny got a text from Albert congratulating him on a job well done. He pocketed the phone and entered the subway station. He didn’t really care. Insofar as it would help the book sell, he was satisfied, but Kenny had gotten to the point where appearing on other people’s shows wasn’t enough. He wanted his own show.

Not on a stupid cable news channel talking about the hot air of the day. Something more. A Vice meets adorable but serious Jacob Soboroff meets Columbo magazine type of thing. But for a streaming platform, with episodic storytelling, blowing the lid off unsolved murders, corporate crimes, political scandal.

He didn’t want to wait any longer. He felt he had been waiting his whole life.

The Friday 56 for 7/1/22: Short Tails by Spencer Quinn

The Friday 56This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
The Friday 56 Grab a book, any book.
The Friday 56 Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
The Friday 56 Find a snippet, short and sweet.
The Friday 56 Post it.

from Page 56 of:
Short Tails

Short Tails by Spencer Quinn

(it might help people to know that the narrator is that handsome guy on the cover)

I barked my low rumbly bark. Bernie rose and followed me to the top of the ridge. We gazed into the distance, a hilly distance with everything so clear in the early morning light: giant red rocks, tall saguaros like green men stuck in the ground, a tiny black blur of circling buzzards. The bubble gum smell grew stronger. I started making my way down the ridge.

“Chet? We haven’t finished breakfast.”

I kept going.

“You know we’re on vacation?”

Vacation was what again?

“Hang on. It’s steep.”

It was? Somehow I’d missed that, and now it was too late, what with me already at the bottom, the making my way down part having turned into a sort of bounding.

The Friday 56 for 6/24/22: Movieland by Lee Goldberg

The Friday 56This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
The Friday 56 Grab a book, any book.
The Friday 56 Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
The Friday 56 Find a snippet, short and sweet.
The Friday 56 Post it.

from Page 56% of:
Movieland

Movieland by Lee Goldberg

Duncan put the bag down and picked up the one containing Netter’s watch. It had come through the crash unscathed. “The only Rolex I’ve seen that’s bigger than this is the one in the Calabasas clock tower.”

Netter’s watch had clearly been built to last, Eve thought. Rolex could use it as a selling point. You might not survive a car crash, but your watch will.

The Friday 56 for 6/17/22: Against All Odds by Jeffrey H. Haskell

The Friday 56This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
The Friday 56 Grab a book, any book.
The Friday 56 Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
The Friday 56 Find a snippet, short and sweet.
The Friday 56 Post it.

from Page 55 (because 56 was blank) of:
Against All Odds

Against All Odds by Jeffrey H. Haskell

“Don’t worry, sir, you’re in good hands. I’ll take care of everything so you can focus on your research,” she said with a smile.

She was certainly chipper. An optimist to keep him company wasn’t a bad idea. Not to mention, nothing made an old man feel young like a beautiful girl at his side. He sighed. Those days were long past, but the reminder would be nice. Not that she would think of him that way, nor would he ever try anything. It would just be nice to have her along.

Yes, this was going to be the best year of his life.

The aircar swooped out of the sky and came to hover next to them. Iker picked up his bag and loaded it in the trunk with a smile, daydreaming about how the future of the galaxy was about to change.

The Friday 56 for 6/10/22: Payback by R.C. Bridgestock

The Friday 56This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
The Friday 56 Grab a book, any book.
The Friday 56 Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
The Friday 56 Find a snippet, short and sweet.
The Friday 56 Post it.

from 56% of:
Payback

Payback by R.C. Bridgestock

Charley turned her head in Ricky-Lee’s direction and silently raised an eyebrow indicating the large, sturdy box on Wilkie’s desk. He stopped and immediately changed his tune to a long, low whistle.

‘What the hell did he do to deserve that?’ he said. Opening the box, he took out a shapely, substantial glass bottle. ‘A superb example of the aesthetic,’ he said, knowledgeably.

Charley was impressed.

‘I swear I could just about pound a nail into a two-by-four with this thing.’

Tattie sat back in her chair waiting for the document she had been typing to print out. ‘I don’t advise using that or any other whisky bottle as a carpentry tool,’ she said.

EXCERPT from There Goes The Neighbourhood by S Reed

There Goes The Neighbourhood Poster
For the next part of my stop on The Love Books Blog Tour for S Reed’s There Goes The Neighbourhood, I present to you this little excerpt from the novel. Enjoy!


Underappreciated

Poppy Field Lane is like any typical American suburb of the 50s… but it’s the mid-90s and the (mostly) terrible fashion notwithstanding, the Lane is a time capsule of life in Upstate New York before the feminist movement. The men go to work, and the women stay home and look after the house. The men have all the fun, and the women clean up afterwards. The men set all the rules, and the women abide by them… except when the men are out of town. None of these rules apply to eccentric widowed billionaire Ignatius Feltrap who is as young as she is rich.

She lived in the biggest house – a mansion, really – the biggest in all of Poppy Field Lane, but one day, she decided she no longer liked her neighbors, so she paid an extortionate amount of money to have her house moved to the beachfront.

Not because she liked the view, but so it would spoil the stunning vistas for her abhorrent neighbors, Carol and Frank, the Lilinsters (there are better names that Ignatius likes to call them by, but none of them are polite). Ignatius is convinced they have risen from the fiery depths of hell just to try and ruin her life; try to, anyway. It also gave her a chance to throw even wilder parties without the worry (not that she did) of a noise complaint from said neighbors. In fact, if it weren’t for them, most of the town wouldn’t mind her. And don’t think she doesn’t take pleasure in their indignation. Carol, especially, lived for calling the cops to Feltrap Manor, although she would never give it that name. She’d usually say something like “That woman, I believe her name is Ignatius, yes, the widow, well, she’s throwing an illegal party again”, and she would purr over the word ‘widow’ and let it hang in the receiver’s ear like a moldy piece of fruit. Ignatius hoped taking that power away from the vile witch would make her melt, but it only seemed to exacerbate the tension between the two of them. To Ignatius’s disdain, Carol and her brusque husband tick on. How she loathes the ground they walk on. If you ask her, the Lilinsters are to blame for her being outcast from the rest of Poppy Field Lane. If it weren’t for them, she would be accepted by the town, despite being ‘new money’. And despite her rambunctious attitude, she does want to be accepted, but she will not conform to the Lane’s outdated ways.

There is an unspoken understanding that they and Ignatius are civil toward each other in the street… However, only one of them got the memo and read it. The other, it seems, set it on fire… with a flamethrower.

 


Read the rest in There Goes The Neighbourhood by S Reed.

My thanks to Love Books Group for the invitation to participate in this Tour.

Love Books Group

The Friday 56 for 6/3/22: Adult Assembly Required by Abbi Waxman

The Friday 56This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
The Friday 56 Grab a book, any book.
The Friday 56 Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
The Friday 56 Find a snippet, short and sweet.
The Friday 56 Post it.

from Page 56 of:
Adult Assembly Required

Adult Assembly Required by Abbi Waxman

“Is that why you have a limp?” Polly asked, mildly ashamed of being nosy, but not enough to not want to know. It’s not the kind of thing you can ask about immediately, at least not once you leave preschool, but she’d wondered.

Laura nodded.

“What kind of accident was it?” continued Polly, hoping for something interesting like being crushed by a falling piano, or attacked by a tiger.

“Car crash,” said Laura, laughing when she saw Polly’s disappointed expression.

Highlights from May: Lines Worth Repeating

Highlights from the Month
Here’s a collection of my favorite phrases/sentences/paragraphs from last month that I haven’t already used for something. (I will skip most audiobooks, my transcription skills aren’t what they should be. But when I try, the punctuation is just a guess).

Rosebud

Rosebud by Paul Cornell

Haunt has never heard an insect scream before. He doesn’t feel he’s missed out. It’s the sound of whatever Quin has got in that made-up body instead of a mammalian voicebox having a terrible malfunction.

…humans have had many ideas for how to travel beyond the solar system, and some of them might work, even, given enormous time and energy and money. But that’s just it. Humans are, in the end, stupid chimps without the attention span to achieve anything like that. And they’re only just starting to understand that.


The Cartographers

The Cartographer by Peng Shepherd

“I really think you should tell the police sooner rather than later.”

“I will, I will,” Nell replied.

“When?” he urged, a familiar tone slipping into his voice. With a Young, unless you agreed on a firm date to stop working on something, “soon” meant “when I’m satisfied.”

A burst of cool, stale air hit her as soon as she was inside, and Nell sank wistfully into it. It was the smell of ancient pages, of time, of her very soul, if souls could have smells, she thought.

Wally had spent so long repressing his real feelings for Tam, I think he didn’t even know they were there. They were like a phantom limb to him—a thing he’d convinced himself wasn’t real, even though he could still sense its ghost.

I don’t know how it happened—isn’t that what everyone who betrays someone says? But I don’t know how it happened. I just know why.


Revenge Tour

Robert B. Parker’s Revenge Tour by Mike Lupica

“Tell me about it,” I said.

“I’d rather not,” she said.

“Force yourself,” I said.

“We can talk about it after dinner.”

“I can manage both,” I said. “I’m the kind of multitasker that makes young multitaskers aspirational.”

I wasn’t sure what I had expected the great and powerful Richard Gross to look like. But the rather legendary Hollywood power broker, one who had begun his career Out There as a lawyer, looked more like an actor, reminding me somewhat of Michael Douglas. Not the Romancing the Stone Michael Douglas. The older one from Netflix.

I stopped about a half-hour into New York. These turnpike rest areas all looked the same to me, the way shopping malls did. I used the ladies’ room and bought a Coke Zero and a guilty-pleasure Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, knowing that some might say that the combination of candy and a diet soft drink was counterintuitive. I thought of it as establishing a crucial and delicate balance to my personal nutrition.


Nothing to See Here

Nothing to See Here by Kevin Wilson

I wasn’t destined for greatness; I knew this. But I was figuring out how to steal it from someone stupid enough to relax their grip on it.


This is Going to Hurt

This is Going to Hurt by Adam Kay

Her extremely posh eight-year-old asks her a question about the economy (!), and before she answers it, she asks her extremely posh five-year-old “Do you know what the economy is, darling?”

“Yes mummy, it’s the part of the plane that’s terrible”.

This is how revolutions start.

But it’s a Saturday night and the NHS runs a skeleton service. Actually, that’s unfair on skeletons – it’s more like when they dig up remains of Neolithic Man and reconstruct what he might have looked like from a piece of clavicle and a thumb joint.


Heroic Hearts

Heroic Hearts edited by Jim Butcher and Kerrie L. Hughes

Hero, noun
1. a person who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities
2. a sandwich

Comfort Zone by Kelley Armstrong

We’ll be fine. Remember, the couple that breaks and enters together goes to prison together.

Fire Hazard by Kevin Hearne

The most important question in this life, I’ve heard it said, is whether you have the sausage to achieve your goals. Sausage being a metaphor for courage, in this case, instead of the many other things it could be, including actual sausage.

It burned with the rage of five grizzly bears on energy drinks fighting to drink the last one of a six-pack.

Silverspell by Chloe Neill

“Are you going to get coffee right now?”

Only if the universe was just.

Little Things by Jim Butcher

My name is Major General Toot-Toot Minimus, sprite in service to Sir Harry Dresden, Knight of the Winter Court and Wizard of Chicago, and captain of his personal guard. When the skies darken with smoke and ash, when wails of wrong and woe rend the night, when my lord goes to war with titans and unspeakable horrors from Outside of reality, someone must protect him from threats too small to readily discern. That is my place: not at my lord’s side, but at his ankles.


Don't Know Tough

Don’t Know Tough by Eli Cranor

I feel drunk, but not the good kind. The kind where you just keep drinking and drinking, and it don’t matter none, just don’t never feel good.

“Trent thinks Billy might be able to get a football scholarship.”

Tina laughs as a semitruck downshifts somewhere out on a highway in the dark, a low, grating sound. “Ain’t nobody talking about no scholarship, Mrs. Powers. We just trying to survive.”

“Survive?”

“Yeah, me and my boys. Sometime it ain’t even death you got to worry about.”

“What could be worse than death?”

“If you don’t know already,” Tina’s lips barely move, “then don’t go asking.”


In a House of Lies

In a House of Lies by Ian Rankin

‘I seem to have picked up a wee dose of COPD.’

‘What’s that when it’s at home?’

‘Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease – known as emphysema in the old days.’

‘Trust you to get something that has the word COP in it.’

‘Aye, I feel like I drew a winning ticket there.’

[Name Withheld] sat with arms folded, alongside his solicitor. The room was stuffy and Dean had removed his jacket but kept his waistcoat on. It boasted a fob watch on a gold chain, just when Rebus thought he couldn’t dislike lawyers more than he already did.

There was so much energy emanating from the various groupings, Rebus could feel it as a physical force, pushing against him. He knew he was looking at the future, but also that the futures these various young people imagined for themselves might not work out the way they hoped. There’d be tears and traumas along the way, mistakes made, promises broken. Sime would marry their sweethearts and live to regret it, Others would break apart. A few would trouble the police in later years. There’d be early deaths from disease and maybe even a suicide or two, Right now, none of that would seem feasible to them, They were alive in and of the moment ~ and that was all that mattered.


(Image by DaModernDaVinci from Pixabay)

Towel Day ’22: Some of my favorite Adams lines . . .

(updated 5/25/22)

There’s a great temptation here for me to go crazy and use so many quotations that I’d get in copyright trouble. I’ll refrain from that and just list some of his best lines . . .*

* The fact that this list keeps expanding from year to year says something about my position on flirting with temptation.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so.

This must be Thursday. . . I never could get the hang of Thursdays.

“You’d better be prepared for the jump into hyperspace. It’s unpleasantly like being drunk.”

“What’s so unpleasant about being drunk?”

“You ask a glass of water.”

(I’m not sure why, but this has always made me chuckle, if not actually laugh out loud. It’s just never not funny. It’s possibly the line that made me a fan of Adams)

He had found a Nutri-Matic machine which had provided him with a plastic cup filled with a liquid that was almost, but not quite, entirely unlike tea.

In those days spirits were brave, the stakes were high, men were real men, women were real women and small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri were real small furry creatures from Alpha Centuari. And all dared to brave unknown terrors, to do mighty deeds, to boldly split infinitives that no man had split before . . .

“Look,” said Arthur, “would it save you a lot of time if I just gave up and went mad now?”

The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don’t.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, after a second or so, nothing continued to happen.

He attacked everything in life with a mix of extraordinary genius and naive incompetence, and it was often difficult to tell which was which.


The Restaurant at the End of the Universe

The Restaurant at the End of the Universe

It is a curious fact, and one to which no one knows quite how much importance to attach, that something like 85 percent of all known worlds in the Galaxy, be they primitive or highly advanced, have invented a drink called jynnan tonnyx, or gee-N-N-T’Nix, or jinond-o-nicks, or any one of a thousand or more variations on the same phonetic theme. The drinks themselves are not the same, and vary between the Sivolvian “chinanto/mnigs” which is ordinary water served at slightly above room temperature, and the Gagrakackan “tzjin-anthony-ks” which kills cows at a hundred paces; and in fact the one common factor between all of them, beyond the fact that the names sound the same, is that they were all invented and named before the worlds concerned made contact with any other worlds.

Reality is frequently inaccurate.

Life is wasted on the living.


Life, The Universe and Everything

Life, the Universe, and Everything

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy has this to say on the subject of flying. There is an art, it says, or rather, a knack to flying. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.

(It goes on for quite a while after this—and I love every bit of it.)

“One of the interesting things about space,” Arthur heard Slartibartfast saying . . . “is how dull it is?”

“Dull?” . . .

“Yes,” said Slartibartfast, “staggeringly dull. Bewilderingly so. You see, there’s so much of it and so little in it.”


So Long, and Thanks For All The Fish

So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish

Of course, one never has the slightest notion what size or shape different species are going to turn out to be, but if you were to take the findings of the latest Mid-Galactic Census report as any kind of accurate guide to statistical averages you would probably guess that the craft would hold about six people, and you would be right. You’d probably guessed that anyway. The Census report, like most such surveys, had cost an awful lot of money and told nobody anything they didn’t already know—except that every single person in the Galaxy had 2.4 legs and owned a hyena. Since this was clearly not true the whole thing eventually had to be scrapped.

Here was something that Ford felt he could speak about with authority. “Life,” he said, “is like a grapefruit.”

“Er, how so?”

“Well, it’s sort of orangy-yellow and dimpled on the outside, wet and squidgy in the middle. It’s got pips inside, too. Oh, and some people have half a one for breakfast.”

“Is there anyone else out there I can talk to?”

Arthur had a swordfish steak and said it made him angry. He grabbed a passing waitress by the arm and berated her. “Why’s this fish so bloody good?” he demanded, angrily.

“Please excuse my friend,” said Fenchurch to the startled waitress. “I think he’s having a nice day at last.”


Mostly Harmless

Mostly Harmless

A common mistake that people make when trying to design something completely foolproof is to underestimate the ingenuity of complete fools.

Fall, though, is the worst. Few things are worse than fall in New York. Some of the things that live in the lower intestines of rats would disagree, but most of the things that live in the lower intestines of rats are highly disagreeable anyways, so their opinion can and should be discounted.


Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency

Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency

There is no point in using the word ‘impossible’ to describe something that has clearly happened.

If it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, we have at least to consider the possibility that we have a small aquatic bird of the family anatidae on our hands.

Let’s think the unthinkable, let’s do the undoable. Let us prepare to grapple with the ineffable itself, and see if we may not eff it after all.

(I’ve often been tempted to get a tattoo of this)


The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul

The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul

There are some people you like immediately, some whom you think you might learn to like in the fullness of time, and some that you simply want to push away from you with a sharp stick.

It can hardly be a coincidence that no language on earth has ever produced the expression, ‘As pretty as an airport.’

The impossible often has a kind of integrity to it which the merely improbable lacks.

She stared at them with the worried frown of a drunk trying to work out why the door is dancing.

It was his subconscious which told him this—that infuriating part of a person’s brain which never responds to interrogation, merely gives little meaningful nudges and then sits humming quietly to itself, saying nothing.

As she lay beneath a pile of rubble, in pain, darkness, and choking dust, trying to find sensation in her limbs, she was at least relieved to be able to think that she hadn’t merely been imagining that this was a bad day. So thinking, she passed out.


The Last Chance to See

The Last Chance to See

“So what do we do if we get bitten by something deadly?” I asked.

He looked at me as if I were stupid. “You die, of course. That’s what deadly means.”

I’ve never understood all this fuss people make about the dawn. I’ve seen a few and they’re never as good as the photographs, which have the additional advantage of being things you can look at when you’re in the right frame of mind, which is usually around lunchtime.

I have the instinctive reaction of a Western man when confronted with sublimely incomprehensible. I grab my camera and start to photograph it.

Human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experience of others, are also remarkable for their apparent disinclination to do so.

The aye-aye is a nocturnal lemur. It is a very strange-looking creature that seems to have been assembled from bits of other animals. It looks a little like a large cat with a bat’s ears, a beaver’s teeth, a tail like a large ostrich feather, a middle finger like a long dead twig and enormous eyes that seem to peer past you into a totally different world which exists just over your left shoulder.

One of the characteristics that laymen find most odd about zoologists is their insatiable enthusiasm for animal droppings. I can understand, of course, that the droppings yield a great deal of information about the habits and diets of the animals concerned, but nothing quite explains the sheer glee that the actual objects seem to inspire.

I mean, animals may not be intelligent, but they’re not as stupid as a lot of human beings.


The Salmon of Doubt

The Salmon of Doubt: Hitchhiking the Galaxy One Last Time

I’ve come up with a set of rules that describe our reactions to technologies:
1. Anything that is in the world when you’re born is normal and ordinary and is just a natural part of the way the world works.
2. Anything that’s invented between when you’re fifteen and thirty-five is new and exciting and revolutionary and you can probably get a career in it.
3. Anything invented after you’re thirty-five is against the natural order of things.


And a couple of lines I’ve seen in assorted places, articles, books, and whatnot

I love deadlines. I love the whooshing noise they make as they go by.

A learning experience is one of those things that says, “You know that thing you just did? Don’t do that.”

The fact is, I don’t know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn’t collapse when you beat your head against it.

Solutions nearly always come from the direction you least expect, which means there’s no point trying to look in that direction because it won’t be coming from there.

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