John Connolly

“V-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y, David explained that without slates on the roof, the rain would get in. In their way, they were just as important as walls. Dr. Moberley asked David if he was afraid of the rain getting in. David told him that he didn't like getting wet. It wasn't so bad outside, especially if you were dressed for it, but most people didn't dress for rain indoors.”

“Astronomers who were recently sifting through thousands of signals from Sagittarius B2, a big dust cloud at the center of our galaxy, found a substance there called ethyl formate, which is the chemical responsible for the flavor of raspberries, and the smell of rum, the drink popular with pirates. Therefore, our galaxy tastes a bit of raspberries and smells of rum, which is nice.”

“The worst thing you can do as a writer is waste people's time.”

“Can I ever come back here' he asked, and the Woodsman said something very strange in reply.'Most people come back here,' he said, 'in the end”

“Suočavamo se s onima s kojima se moramo suočiti i doći će trenuci kad budemo morali djelovati za veće dobro, čak i ako postoji rizik za nas, ali ne trebamo nepotrebno izlagati život opasnosti. Imamo samo jedan život i možemo dati samo jedan život. Nema ništa divljenja vrijedno u tome da ga izgubimo kad je situacija beznadna.”

“Kako je odrastao i kako mu je glazba postajala sve važnijom, majčin je glas počeo doživljavati manje kao pjesmu, a više kao svojevrsnu simfoniju koja sadržava bezbrojne varijacije na poznate teme i melodije koje se mijenjaju u skladu s njezinim hirovima i raspoloženjima.”

“Now that it's time to leave, I'm not sure I wan to go.”

“I believe in those whom I love and trust.”

“Some revelations came only with the sound of dirt falling on a coffin:the ones that mattered, the ones that made for regrets.”

“Why did you shoot him?""You weren't around," I replied, my teeth gritted in pain. "If you'd been here I'd have shot you instead.”

“One lies in truth,One truth is lies.One path is death,One path is life.One question asked,The path to guide.”

“David could tell, by looking at her face as she read, whether or not the story contained in the book was living inside her, and she in it, and he would recall again all that she had told him about stories and tales and the power that they wield over us, and that we in turn wield over them.”

“...it was imaginative people who tended to lie. Lying required making stuff up, and only imaginative people were good at that.”

“No hubo advertencia, ni invitación a volverse con las manos en alto, ni opción a rendirse. Esos gestos eran para los buenos en las películas del Oeste, los que llevaban sombreros blancos y al final se quedaban con la chica.”

“So what you gonna do?”“Push a stick into the beehive and rustle up some bees. The Larousses are hosting a party today. I think we should avail ourselves of their hospitality.”“We got an invite?”“Has not having one ever stopped us before?”“No, but sometimes I just like to be invited to shit, you know what I’m sayin’, instead of havin’ to bust in, get threatened, irritate the nice white folks, put the fear of the black man on them.”He paused, seemed to think for a while about what he had just said, then brightened.“Sounds good, doesn’t it?” I said.“Real good,” he agreed.”

“An interesting thing happened today,” she said, giving me just enough time to get the word “hi” out of my mouth. “I opened the front door and there was a man on my doorstep. A big man. A very big, very black man.”“Rachel —”“You said it would be discreet. His T–shirt had the words ‘Klan Killer’ written on the front.”“I —”“And do you know what he said?”I waited.“He handed me a note from Louis and told me he was lactose intolerant. That was it. Note. Lactose intolerant. Nothing else. He’s coming to the reading with me. It was all I could do to get him to change his T–shirt. The new one reads ‘Black Death.’ I’m going to tell people it’s a rap band. Do you think it’s a rap band?”I figured it was probably his occupation, but I didn’t say that. Instead, I said the only thing I could think of to say.“Maybe you’d better buy some soy milk.”She hung up without saying good–bye.”

“You still carrying an arsenal in the trunk of your car?”“Why, you need something?”“No, but if your car is hit by lightning I’ll know where my lawn went.”

“You must be careful where you step.And you must be ready for what you might find.”

“Luck ran out, but smart was for life.”

“You can't prove that something doesn't exist. You can only prove that something does exist.”

“42. Most people will spend their lives doing jobs that they don't particularly enjoy, and will eventually save up enough money to stop doing those jobs just in time to start dying instead. Don't be one of those people. There's a difference between living, and just surviving. Do something that you love, and find someone to love who loves that you love what you do.It really is that simple.And that hard.”

“This world is full of broken things: broken hearts, broken promises, broken people,”

“Samuel didn't move. 'What will you do if I climb off the bed?''Well I can eat you, or I can drag you down to the depths of Hell, never to seen or heard from again. Depends, really.''On what?''Lost of things: hygiene, for a start. After tasting that sock, I don't fancy eating any part of you, to be honest, so it'll have to be the depths of Hell for you, I'm afraid.”

“He became merely the broken statue of a beast, now without another's fear to animate it.”

“Unless you know the code, it has no meaning.”

“We are not meant to know the time or the nature of our deaths (for all of us secretly hope that we may be immortal).”

“When she was taken from me it was like the death of a world, an infinite number of futures coming to an end.”

“The evolutionary curve obviously sloped pretty gently where Six came from.”

“For a moment they still lived and I experienced their deaths as a fresh loss with each waking, so that I was unsure whether I was a man waking from a dream of death or a dreamer entering a world of loss, a man dreaming of unhappiness or a man waking to grief.”

“I slipped from present to past, sliding down the snake heads of memory into what was and what would never be again.”

“Frank tried to look like he was wrestling with his conscience, although he couldn't have found his conscience without a shovel and an exhumation order.”

“She was plump, with dyed red hair and a face so caked with cosmetics that the floor of the Amazon jungle probably saw more natural light...”

“But there were some who went with her willingly, for there are other women who dream of lying with wolves.”

“Men and men, men and women, whatever the permutation, in the end one partner usually feels more than the other and that partner usually suffers for it.”

“..her lips were as red as a stop light..”

“There are people whose eyes you must avoid, whose attention you must not draw to yourself. They are strange, parasitic creatures, lost souls seeking to stretch across the abyss and make fatal contact with the warm, constant flow of humanity. They live in pain, and exist only to visit that pain on others. A random glance, the momentary lingering of a look, is enough to give them the excuse that they seek. Sometimes, it is better to keep your eyes on the gutter for the fear that, by looking up, you might catch a glimpse of them, black shapes against the sun, and be blinded forever.”

“I dream dark dreams. I dream of a figure moving through the forest, of children flying from his path, of young women crying at his coming. I dream of snow and ice, of bare branches and moon-cast shadows. I dream of dancers floating in the air, stepping lightly even in death, and my own pain is but a faint echo of their suffering as I run. My blood is black on the snow, and the edges of the world are silvered with moonlight. I run into the darkness, and he is waiting. I dream in black and white, and I dream of him. I dream of Caleb, who does not exist, and I am afraid.”

“It is a curious fact that small boys are more terrified of their babysitters than small girls are. In part, this is because small girls and babysitters, who are usually slightly larger girls, belong to the same species, and therefore understand each other. Small boys, on the other hand, do not understand girls, and therefore being looked after by one is a little like a hamster being looked after by a shark. If you are a small boy, it may be some consolation to you to know that even large boys do not understand girls, and girls, by and large, do not understand boys. This makes adult life very interesting.”

“And, in the darkness, David closed his eyes as all that was lost was found again.”

“The snow fell straight and slow, adding another layer to the drifts and covering roads, trees, bushes, and bodies, the living and the dead as one beneath its veil.”

“They were the clothes of a child, and he was a child no longer.”

“I thought it was her wicked stepmother who poisoned her...''...Turned out the wicked stepmother had an alibi.''...Seems she was off poisoning someone else at the time. Chance in a million, really. It was just bad luck.”

“David's mother would often tell him stories were alive. They weren't alive in the way people were alive,or even dogs or cats. People were alive whether you chose to notice them or not, while dogs tended to make you notice them if they decided that you weren't paying enough attention. Cats, meanwhile, were very good at pretending people didn't exist at all when it suited them...”

“Why is there always one bloke in these boy bands who looks like he came to fix the boiler and somehow got bullied into joining the group?”

“‎"Sarge, mr. Nurd here is threatening to turn me to jelly.""really?" said Sarge. "what flavor?”

“a technician who uses the term “glitch” is like aDoctor who tells you you’re suffering from a “thingy,” except the doctor won’t tell you to go home and try turning yourself on and off again.”

“Before she became ill, David’s mother would often tell him that stories were alive. They weren’t alive in the way that people were alive, or even dogs or cats. People were alive whether you chose to notice them or not, while dogs tended to make you notice them if they decided that you weren’t paying them enough attention. Cats, meanwhile, were very good at pretending people didn’t exist at all when it suited them, but that was another matter entirely.Stories were different, though: they came alive in the telling. Without a human voice to read them aloud, or a pair of wide eyes following them by flashlight beneath a blanket, they had no real existence in our world. They were like seeds in the beak of a bird, waiting to fall to earth, or the notes of a song laid out on a sheet, yearning for an instrument to bring their music into being. They lay dormant, hoping for the chance to emerge. Once someone started to read them, they could begin to change. They could take root in the imagination, and transform the reader. Stories wanted to be read, David’s mother would whisper. They needed it. It was the reason they forced themselves from their world into ours. They wanted us to give them life.”

“I am sorry," I whispered. "I am sorry for all of the ways that I failed you. I am sorry that I was not there to save you, or to die alongside you. I am sorry that I have kept you with me for so long, trapped in my heart, bound in sorrow and remorse. I forgive you too. I forgive you for leaving me, and I forgive you for returning. I forgive you your anger, and your grief. Let this be an end to it.”

“I don't think," he said, "that a vicar is supposed to beat a bishop to death, or even back to death."Mr. Berkeley looked down upon the remains of Bishop Bernard."If anyone asks, we'll say he fell over," he said. "Lots of times.”

“The stories in books hate the stories in newspapers, David's mother would say. Newspaper stories were like newly caught fish, worthy of attention only for as long as they remained fresh, which was not very long at all. They were like the street urchins hawking the evening editions, all shouty and insistent, while stories- real stories, proper made-up stories-were like stern but helpful librarians in a well-stocked library. Newspaper stories were as insubstantial as smoke, as long-lived as mayflies. They did not take root but were instead like weeds that crawled along the ground, stealing the sunlight from more deserving tales.”