“I mean no disrespect to the gentlemen of the bench, but it is no secret that our system of justice, praised throughout Europe for its severity and its swiftness, is a terrible and fearful thing, and no man, guilty or innocent, wishes to stand before it.”
“We are all driven by our passions, and our task is to know when to submit to them and when to resist.”
“Proximity, I have learned, is often as effective as violence.”
“He seemed a man whose youthful promise had yielded nothing but the feelings of failure that come with the advance of age. It is this moment in life, when the bounty of the future becomes the drudgery of the present, that all men fear, myself included, and for that reason I immediately felt a sympathy for this man.”
“I fear we face a new kind of man along with this new kind of affluence. When lands meant wealth, men could perhaps have enough. Too much land was difficult to govern. But with paper money, more is simply more. In France, you know, where they suffer from their own financial mania, they have a word - the millionaire - to denote men whose wealth is measured in the millions. Millions. It is inconceivable, but there are more than a few men who hold this title.”
“believe you have struck upon the problems of conspiracies. There are men who wish to keep you from uncovering the truth about this particular matter, but there are others who are only privately villainous and have their own little truths to hide. When you confront a conspiracy it becomes monstrous hard to distinguish between wretched villainy and ordinary, common lies.”
“over the last decade I had little”
“- O mundo mudou, o senhor sabe. Ou mudamos com ele e prosperamos ou agitamos os punhos para o céu. Prefiro a primeira escolha. E quanto ao senhor, Weaver? O que prefere?”
“The harm is in whom this system makes powerful. If value is no longer vested in gold, but in the promise of gold, then the men who make the promises hold ultimate power. If money and gold are one and the same, then gold defines value, but if money and paper are the same, then value is based upon nothing at all.”
“Good Gad, Weaver. That look upon your face is one of inspiration. I hardly know you any longer.”
“To Any and All Persons Who have bought stock from, or sold stock to, Mr. Martin Rochester You are asked to attend Mr. Kent’s Coffeehouse, in Peter Street, near Bloomsbury Square this Thursday between the hours of noon and three, at which time you will receive compensation for your time”
“Elias nodded. “You begin to understand the theory of probability,” he said. “From the general necessity of the existence of victims, you will find the particular of the villain.”
“It is a good thing to know what it is to be poor, and a better thing if you can do it in company.”
“I've always believed clear-eyed sobriety was for the harder hearted.”
“support of the Mexican Revolution. He hadn’t known”
“To the most inconsiderate asshole of a friend,
I’m writing you this letter because I know that if I say what I have to say
to your face I will probably punch you.
I don’t know you anymore.
I don’t see you anymore.
All I get is a quick text or a rushed e-mail from you every few days. I
know you are busy and I know you have Bethany, but hello? I’m supposed to
be your best friend.
You have no idea what this summer has been like. Ever since we were
kids we pushed away every single person that could possibly have been our
friend. We blocked people until there was only me and you. You probably
haven’t noticed, because you have never been in the position I am in now.
You have always had someone. You always had me. I always had you. Now
you have Bethany and I have no one.
Now I feel like those other people that used to try to become our friend,
that tried to push their way into our circle but were met by turned backs. I
know you’re probably not doing it deliberately just as we never did it deliberately.
It’s not that we didn’t want anyone else, it’s just that we didn’t need
them. Sadly now it looks like you don’t need me anymore.
Anyway I’m not moaning on about how much I hate her, I’m just trying
to tell you that I miss you. And that well . . . I’m lonely.
Whenever you cancel nights out I end up staying home with Mum and
Dad watching TV. It’s so depressing. This was supposed to be our summer
of fun. What happened? Can’t you be friends with two people at once?
I know you have found someone who is extra special, and I know you
both have a special “bond,” or whatever, that you and I will never have. But
we have another bond, we’re best friends. Or does the best friend bond disappear
as soon as you meet somebody else? Maybe it does, maybe I just
don’t understand that because I haven’t met that “somebody special.” I’m
not in any hurry to, either. I liked things the way they were.
So maybe Bethany is now your best friend and I have been relegated to
just being your “friend.” At least be that to me, Alex. In a few years time if
my name ever comes up you will probably say, “Rosie, now there’s a name I
haven’t heard in years. We used to be best friends. I wonder what she’s doingnow; I haven’t seen or thought of her in years!” You will sound like my mum
and dad when they have dinner parties with friends and talk about old times.
They always mention people I’ve never even heard of when they’re talking
about some of the most important days of their lives. Yet where are those
people now? How could someone who was your bridesmaid 20 years ago not
even be someone who you are on talking terms with now? Or in Dad’s case,
how could he not know where his own best friend from college lives? He
studied with the man for five years!
Anyway, my point is (I know, I know, there is one), I don’t want to be
one of those easily forgotten people, so important at the time, so special, so
influential, and so treasured, yet years later just a vague face and a distant
memory. I want us to be best friends forever, Alex.
I’m happy you’re happy, really I am, but I feel like I’ve been left behind.
Maybe our time has come and gone. Maybe your time is now meant to be
spent with Bethany. And if that’s the case I won’t bother sending you this letter.
And if I’m not sending this letter then what am I doing still writing it?
OK I’m going now and I’m ripping these muddled thoughts up.
Your friend,
Rosie”
“She was so Southern that she cried tears that came straight from the Mississippi, and she always smelled faintly of cottonwood and peaches.”
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