“He writes the worst English that I have ever encountered. It reminds me of a string of wet sponges; it reminds me of tattered washing on the line; it reminds me of stale bean soup, of college yells, of dogs barking idiotically through endless nights. It is so bad that a sort of grandeur creeps into it. It drags itself out of the dark abysm of pish, and crawls insanely up the topmost pinnacle of posh. It is rumble and bumble. It is flap and doodle. It is balder and dash.(writing about US President Warren G. Harding)”
“It's hard to think about all the bad when she reminds me of all that's good.”
“Superpowerful?’”He stood up, a gold chain dangling from his fingers. “Let me remind you of two words, Mercer: Bad. Dog.”
“It's interesting, isn't it? . . . the chandelier . . . it reminds me of mushroom soup.”
“The flashing black line on an empty Word document reminds me that my life is counting down second by second, and that if I don’t write I’ll have wasted my time here on earth.”
“You remind me of him. He was the best man I have ever known.”