“I think a woman is born with the desire to hear she is beautiful.”
“You’re pretty sharp, Clive. Do you believe in God?”
Clive smiled. “I don’t know, should I?”
Actually, approaching the matter from a purely logical perspective, yes. All the evidence points to the existence of a creator. The single greatest body of evidence is the dismal failure of man’s desperate attempts to come up with a reasonable alternative, beginning with evolution. I’ve always looked at the universe and seen a creator as plainly as most people who look at the ocean see water.”
“There's always risk in life's most rewarding pursuits, isn't there?”
“She suddenly began to jump up and down, screaming at the top of her lungs. "The arks are after me! The arks are after me! Help me, the arks are after me!"
"The arks! You don't understand, I have the ring and the arks are after me!"
(and so the police officer is puzzled long enough for Miriam and Seth to escape)”
“You should know something, Miriam.... God changed our futures yesterday. There's no other explanation for what happened. And it wasn't the first God. If you ever need hlep, you might want to try the second God.”
“I believe in God because only an idiot can look at the complex balance of nature and believe that has not been designed. Believe it or not, but some people still believe that a watch can make itself out of sand if you just give it enough time. That’s what they call evolution. And you wonder why I am cynical. From my point of view you have to be a fool not to be cynical.”
“His eyes held a subtle light that she could not mistake for anything other than true attraction. The kind that mere friends did not share. She hated it. She loved it. She hated that she loved it.”
“Nothing has an uglier look to us than reason, when it’s not on our side,” Seth said. “Big ideas are so hard to recognize, so fragile, so easy to kill. People who don’t have them can’t possibly understand.”
“Oh, I’m sure you could come up with something, and even then, you’d dress it up in a way that would probably make me want it.”
“... [T]he letters of the alphabet (two Cs, a large D; the combination of Y, S, and L) belong on an ophthalmologist's chart. For the Parisienne, luxury should never be spelled out.”
“The path we plan for ourselves meanders in ways we can never imagine. Life never ceases to throw us googlies. It is how we handle them that makes all the difference. Sometimes you have to take control of it and, at other times, it is best to let go. And the wisest of persons is the one who knows which option to choose.”
“What in Bursin’s holy name is that?” he snarled.
If it were possible to die of embarrassment, Martise was sure she wouldn’t survive the next few minutes. “I was singing.”
His eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “Singing. Is that what you call it? It sounded like someone was torturing a cat.”
“I thought I might work faster if I sang.” She wiped the perspiration from her forehead with a gloved hand and regretted the action. The swipe of citrus oil she’d left on her skin burned. Cael continued to howl, and a door shut with a bang.
"That will be Gurn coming to rescue us from whatever demon he thinks is attacking." The branch supporting Silhara creaked as he adjusted his stance and leaned closer to her. “Tell me something, Martise.” A leaf slapped him in the eye, and he ripped it off its twig with an irritated snap. “How is it that a woman, blessed with a voice that could make a man come, sings badly enough to frighten the dead?”
She was saved from having to answer the outlandish question by the quick thud of running footsteps. Silhara disappeared briefly from view when he bent to greet their visitor. Unfortunately, his answers to Gurn’s unspoken questions were loud and clear. “That was Martise you heard. She was…singing.
“Trust me, I’m not jesting. You can unload your bow.” His next indignant response made her smile. “No, I wasn’t beating her! She’s the one tormenting me with that hideous wailing!”
Martise hid her smile when he reappeared before her. His scowl was ferocious. “Don’t sing.” He pointed a finger at her for emphasis. “You’ve scared my dog, my birds and my servant with your yowling.” He paused. “You’ve even managed to scare me.”
“We find that a high plane of sustained horror is often convenient for reasons of state." — Inspector Kraus (Gestapo)”
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