“Bruges was his dead wife. And his dead wife was Bruges. The two were united in a like destiny. It was Bruges-la-Morte, the dead town entombed in its stone quais, with the arteries of its canals cold once the great pulse of the sea had ceased beating in them.”

“3 novembre. Sainte Grisaille. Bruges n'en finit plus d'étouffer dans la brouillasse. Toutes les tristesses de la Toussaint se sont tassées au ciel.”

“I've got no mother, no wife, no kids. I had, but my mother's dead, and I lost my wife and my kids when I had my trouble. Women are bitches. It's hard for a chap to live without any affection in his life.”

“Cold be hand and heart and bone, and cold be sleep under stone: never more to wake on stony bed, never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead. In the black wind the stars shall die, and still on gold here let them lie, till the dark lord lifts his hand over dead sea and withered land.”

“I tell you it's deadly when you start thinking your wife might be right.”

“We met Dr. Hall in such very deep mourning that either his wife, his mother or himself must be dead”