“We be light, we be life, we be fire! We sing electric flame, we rumble underground wind, we dance heaven! Come be we and be free!”
“Offer me?" A shrill note of indignation entered her voice. "Young man, there are three things that make Britain great. The first is our inability at playing sports."
How does that make Britain great?"
"Despite the certainty of loss, we try anyway with the absolute conviction that this year will be the one, regardless of all evidence to the contrary!"
I raised my eyebrows, but that simply meant I could see my blood more clearly, so looked away and said nothing.
"The second," she went on, "is the BBC. It may be erratic, tabloid, under-funded and unreliable, but without the World Service, obscure Dickens adaptions, the Today Program and Doctor Who, I honestly believe that the cultural and communal capacity of this country would have declined to the level of the apeman, largely owing to the advent of the mobile phone!"
"Oh," I said, feeling that something was expected. "Oh" was enough.
"And lastly, we have the NHS!"
"This is an NHS service?" I asked incredulously.
"I didn't say that, I merely pointed out that the NHS makes Britain great. Now lie still.”
“The dream state just before wakening when it seems perfectly logical for the goldfish not to like peeling its own potatoes on the bus.”
“Whatever happened next, good or bad, it would be wonderful finding out.”
“Between Friday evening and Sunday afternoon, I broke into a total of six offices, one penthouse suite and a small bank, and cursed them all. I cursed the stones they were built on, the bricks in their walls, the paint on their ceilings, the carpets on their floors. I cursed the nylon chairs to give their owners little electric shocks, I cursed the markers to squeak on the whiteboard, the hinges to rust, the glass to run, the windows to stick, the fans to whir, the chairs to break, the computers to crash, the papers to crease, the pens to smear; I cursed the pipes to leak, the coolers to drip, the pictures to sag, the phones to crackle and the wires to spark. And we enjoyed it.”
“It was an excellent coat. It was long, grey, suspiciously blotched, smelt faintly of dust and old curries, went all the way down to my knees and overhung my wrists even when I stretched out my arms. It had big, smelly pockets, crunchy with crumbs, it boasted the remnants of a waterproof sheen, was missing a few buttons, and had once been beige. It was the coat that detectives down the ages had worn while trailing a beautiful, dangerous, presumably blond suspect in the rain, the coat that no one noticed, shapeless, bland and grey - it suited my purpose perfectly.”
“The exorcist had a slightly Australian tinge to his voice, and the laid-back, whatever-comes-next attitude of a man who had suddenly realised two degrees short of a sunstroke that exorcism was the perfect career choice he'd never been offered in school.”
“When humans work, they frequently become unaware of their own body, their own senses, are surprised to find that their wrists ache or their backs are sore or their friend has left the building. It's as close to an out-of-body experience as can be achieved short of fifty volts, a circle of warding, a pigeon's claw cut from an albino female of purest white feathers, or a lot of mushrooms.”
“You want to know a secret?"
"Always."
"My real name is Dave."
"I see."
"This doesn't seem to amuse you."
"I met Jeremy the troll a few nights ago."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously. Also known as the Mighty Raaaarrggh! Although...I can sorta see why you changed the name. 'Dave' isn't knwon for its mysterious, mystic sexiness.”
“So...I suggest you try and get control over your more unusual nature, see if you can't coax those claws away, and I'll try very, very hard not to throw up over what's left of your shoes. How does that sound?”
“Magic is life,’ and that’s not quite right. You think that the study of magic, the understanding of it, gives you some sort of better grasp of life. Unfortunately, even I worked out that this isn’t quite true; it’s a bit skewed, see? We understand this. Magic is not life. Life is magic. Even the boring, plodding, painful, cold, cruel parts, even the mundane automatic reflexes, heart pumping, lungs breathing, stomach digesting, even the uninteresting dull processes of walking, swinging the knees and seeing with eyes, this is magic. This is what makes magic.”
“Forget you are afraid – there is too much worth living to just hide behind your own uncertainties.”
“I spent the day with the pigeons, on a bench in Trafalgar Square, my bag of belongings huddled to my chest in case someone thought of taking them, and a pile of breadcrumbs at my feet. I let the pigeons congregate around me ... Eventually a local warden came up to me and said , "Sir, we ask people not to feed the pigeons," with such an expression of civic determination that I pretense not to understand English. Instead, I listed my way through various "eh?" sounds until, having exhausted his two words of French and three of Spanish, he concluded that since I was neither nationality, I wasn't worth the bother.”
“The van stank of cabbage and cornered like a drunken elephant. It would do.”
“You are deliberately being cryptic,” she exclaimed. “Why?” “Because I don’t like you.”
“Where there is life, there will be magic; the one generates the other.”
“the detritus of left-over life that makes magic what it is, for life is magic, magic is life, the left-over life we don’t even notice we’re living;”
“Are you really going to ask such inane questions all the time? Mystic bloody forces; just accept them and cope!”
“It was not the flesh we would have chosen, but I had long since given up dreams of resembling anyone from the movies and, with the pragmatism of the perfectly average, come to realise that this was me and that was fine.”
“I train myself to think only in words, neat, linear structures, passages with correct punctuation that can define a train of reasoning, understanding – nothing left to chance. I”
“The good must be merciful, even if that mercy to the damned is merely in a quick dispatch.”
“between nowhere in particular and somewhere less than distinct.”
“if you could understand by yourself why a thing was true, you would believe it more than just having it told to you by a teacher.”
“When we blaze, when we fight, when we rejoice, then I am all us, for that is all we are. When I am...afraid...we do not understand, do not like these things. We are me. It is...frightening, having to be me.”
“You can be too safe, you see – and what’s the point of being alive unless there is a progress, a journey, and somewhere, at some point, an end? What else other than that motivation makes us really live, the sense that this is a chance we must use, and now?”
“they had grown bored with ordinary living and needed to seek out this new thrill to make up for the mundanities of existence. And”
“How can you bear to understand that you will get old and lose this feeling, will die and wither and encounter nothing but dark? How can you bear it? Since”
“Good luck and the eternal interlinked cycle of life crap.”
“Life is magic.
I knew, without having to ask, what she meant. Life was not the magic of spells or enchantments or sorcery; or, it was, but that was not the point. Life created magic as an accidental by-product, it wasn't, definite article, absolute statement, A=B, magic. Life was magic in a more mundane sense of the word; the act of living being magic all of its own.
This was something we instinctively understood - it simply hadn't occurred to us that it might need explaining.”
“Frankly, if there ever was a time when I was really happy, it wasn't during those first intoxicating moments of my success, but long before that, when I hadn't yet read or shown my manuscript to anyone -- during those long nights of ecstatic hopes and dreams and passionate love of my work, when I had grown attached to my vision, to the characters I had created myself, as though they were my own offspring, as though they really existed -- and I loved, rejoiced and grieved over them, at times even shedding quite genuine tears over my guileless hero.”
“across the street, a few doors down, Sam watched the house, noting”
“And the price for being a homo-hater should be as high as anyone can pay.”
“In the earl days of their marriage he had discussed with her every aspect of his workday. They'd discussed their hopes and dreams in whispers so as not to awaken the children sleeping in the next room.
Over the years, other obligations had pulled at them, sometimes taking precedence over this quiet pillow talks. Nancy missed them and longed for the days when he had valued her opinion above all others. He still did, she was sure; he just didn't ask for it as frequently as he had before his success was assured.”
“I'm sure once he recovers from the muscle tone and tattoos he'll be fine.'
Good thing he didn't know about the penis piercing. That would give him a heart attack. Or the fact that I had seen the penis piercing.”
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