Wednesday, 26 December 2012

Surely some of the most satisfying lines in books ever...


"I'm afraid it does not concern me very much what Mrs de Winter used to do," I said. "I am Mrs de Winter now, you know. And if I choose to send a message by Robert I shall do so."



"Then with whom have you studied?" Marco asks.
"With my father, Hector Bowen," Celia answers. She pauses for a moment before adding, "Though perhaps he is better known as Prospero the Enchanter."
Marco drops his pen.
"Prospero the Enchanter?" Chandresh removes his feet from the chair in front of him and leans forward, staring at Celia as though he is seeing a completely different person. "Your father is Prospero the Enchanter?"

 

"You are mistaken, Mr Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner."




When Akiva collapsed, the wolf's relief was as profound as his abhorrence for the words he had forced himself to speak, and for the sound of them issuing from this throat that was Thiago's throat, as this voice was Thiago's voice. And these hands that were a dead match for Karou's bruises? They were Thiago's, too.
But the nightmare? That was all Ziri's.



And then Rose came out on to the staircase. She was wearing the dyed-green tea-gown, which is medieval in shape with long flowing sleeves. She obviously didn't know that there were strangers in the house for she called out: "Look, Cassandra!"
Both men turned towards her and she stopped dead at the top of the stairs. For once Topaz had her lute in tune. And she was, most appropriately, playing 'Green Sleeves'.



"Washed ashore, hell!" Yossarian declared, jumping all about also and roaring in laughing exultation at the walls, the ceiling, the chaplain and Major Danby. "He didn't wash ashore in Sweden. He rowed there! He rowed there, chaplain, he rowed there."



The doctor looked from the corybantic captain to his primly smirking daughter, adjusted his spectacles, and sighed. "Whatever next?" he demanded rhetorically, knowing full well what was next, and working out in advance how best to deal with it.



"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" whispered Harry. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does...I am the true master of the Elder Wand."


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