“This is April," he said, holding up the chicken. "She's the only friend I have left. I saved her from an evil chef at Tavern on the Green, and we've pledged eternal friendship.”
“the first rule of being a team is trusting one another. And if you trust someone, you let her keep her secrets. When she is ready to tell you, she will. You dont have to know everything, Anaka.
Why not? Why should I trust Oona if she doesnt trust me? How do I know she's not hiding somthing more dangerous?
Oona was worried the rest of you would see her differently, Kiki bristled. Don't prove her right.”
“... never brag about your expertise. Instead, wait for the opportunity to showcase your skills and watch all the jaws drop.”
“There goes my meeting. - Oona
I'm sorry your latest get-rich-quick scheme has been temporarily put on hold. - DeeDee”
“My father is Lester Liu. - Oona”
“Where am I?" mumbled Luz.
"You're tied up in a homicidal smuggler's haunted mansion," I informed her.
"I remember now. My mom's going to be pissed.”
“Miss Strike. It's nice to see you again. It looks as if you turned out to be dangerous after all."
"You remember." Kiki was impressed.
"I would never forget a student," said Principal Wickham. "Particularly one with such unusual ambitions.”
“I had no songs in my repertoire for commercial radio anyway. Songs about debauched bootleggers, mothers that drowned their own children, Cadillacs that only got five miles to the gallon, floods, union hall fires, darkness and cadavers at the bottom of rivers weren't for radiophiles. There was nothing easygoing about the folk songs I sang. They weren't friendly or ripe with mellowness. They didn't come gently to the shore. I guess you could say they weren't commercial.
Not only that, my style was too erratic and hard to pigeonhole for the radio, and songs, to me, were more important that just light entertainment. They were my preceptor and guide into some altered consciousness of reality, some different republic, some liberated republic. Greil Marcus, the music historian, would some thirty years later call it "the invisible republic."
Whatever the case, it wasn't that I was anti-popular culture or anything and I had no ambitions to stir things up. i just thought of popular culture as lame as hell and a big trick. It was like the unbroken sea of frost that lay outside the window and you had to have awkward footgear to walk on it.
I didn't know what age of history we were in nor what the truth of it was. Nobody bothered with that. If you told the truth, that was all well and good and if you told the un-truth, well, that's still well and good. Folk songs taught me that.”
“The nobility of England would have snored through the Sermon on the Mount. But you'll labor like scholars over a bulldog's pedigree.”
“As I get older, the tyranny that football exerts over my life, and therefore over the lives of people around me, is less reasonable and less attractive. Family and friends know, after long years of wearying experience, that the fixture list always has the last word in any arrangement; they understand, or at least accept, that christenings or weddings or any gatherings, which in other families would take unquestioned precedence, can only be plotted after consultation. So football is regarded as a given disability that has to be worked around. If I were wheelchair-bound, nobody close to me would organise anything in a top-floor flat, so why would they plan anything for a winter Saturday afternoon.”
“I love you.’ For a start, we’d better put these words on a high shelf; in a square box behind glass which we have to break with our elbow; in the bank. We shouldn’t leave them lying around the house like a tube of vitamin C. If the words come too easily to hand, we’ll use them without thought; we won’t be able to resist. Oh, we say we won’t, but we will. We’ll get drunk, or lonely, or – likeliest of all – plain damn hopeful, and there are the words gone, used up, grubbied”
“Magnus had a list of favored traits in a partner-black hair, blue eyes, honest...”
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