“Rommel could smell the sea. At Torbruk the heat and the dust and flies were as bad as they had been in the desert, but it was all made bearable by that occasional whiff of salty dampness in the faint breeze.”
“Ishmael was looking at him through narrowed eyes. “This is very important to you, this box.”
“It’s important to the world.”
Ishmael said: “The sun rises, and the sun sets. Sometimes it rains. We live, then we die.” He shrugged.
He would never understand, Wolff thought; but others would.”
“Nuestro espía de El Cairo es el más grande de todos los héroes. ERWIN ROMMEL, septiembre de 1942”
“again and opened the other. “This is my financing.”
“Where are your manners, Miss Grey?" - Miss Fox
"Probably in the same place where you left yours." - Ivy”
“Memory is the foundation of identity. Through our sense of identity, we act. We determine our moral judgements. We rewrite our own memories, of course, all the time. We create fresh narratives to use in our survival. We agree on fresh histories enabling us to take action. It is part of what makes us such flawed creatures. Creatures of such narrative fiction creating cause and effect.”
“His eyes fell instead on the girl next to Krum. His jaw dropped. It was Hermione. But she didn’t look like Hermione at all. She had done something with her hair; it was no longer bushy but sleek and shiny, and twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. She was wearing robes made of a floaty, periwinkle-blue material, and she was holding herself differently, somehow — or maybe it was merely the absence of the twenty or so books she usually had slung over her back. She was also smiling — rather nervously, it was true — but the reduction in the size of her front teeth was more noticeable than ever; Harry couldn’t understand how he hadn’t spotted it before. “Hi, Harry!” she said. “Hi, Parvati!” Parvati was gazing at Hermione in unflattering disbelief. She wasn’t the only one either; when the doors to the Great Hall opened, Krum’s fan club from the library stalked past, throwing Hermione looks of deepest loathing. Pansy Parkinson gaped at her as she walked by with Malfoy, and even he didn’t seem to be able to find an insult to throw at her. Ron, however, walked right past Hermione without looking at her.”
“Glory may be everlasting, yet it is fleeting as well—soon forgotten in the aftermath of even the most famous of victories if they lead to greater disasters.”
“I’m going to kill you.” “You look fine.” “I’m quite serious. I’m going to murder you. I’m going to murder you to death. And then, after I’ve finished doing that, I’m going to kill you again, just to be sure you got the point.” “Shelby, honestly, you look fine.”
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