Favorite Quotations discovered during the July/August 2012 ReadaThing
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I'm off to start reading now . . .
Then I met Lancelot. -
- The Winter King - Bernard Cornwell.
"Wait . . . really?" the woman said excitedly. "You're a traveler? You came by story ladder? My goodness. It's been years since we've had an explorer. It's not an easy journey, after all. Still, you know what they say: 'All bookshelves lead to the Wordhoard Pit.' And here you are.
"I'm Margarita Staples." She bowed in her harness. "Extreme librarian. Bookaneer."
"I suppose under the circumstances there’s really no point in complaining but really! Noah and I had just got accustomed to living alone and having some peace and quiet and fixing up the house the way we wanted it at last."
Someone has posted the full poem here:
"Son, if the mountain was smooth, you couldn't climb it."
from Clara and Mr. Tiffany by Susan Vreeland
"If you have ever seen a dragon in a pinch, you will realize that this was only poetical exaggeration applied to any hobbit even to Old Took's great-grand-uncle Bullroarer, who was so huge (for a hobbit) that he could ride a horse. He charged the ranks of the goblins of Mount Gram in the Battle of the Green Fields, and knocked their king Golfimbul's head clean off with a wooden club. It sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit-hole, and in this way the battle was won and the game of Golf invented at the same moment."
"'Do I have to talk to insane people?'
'You're a librarian now. I'm afraid it's mandatory.'"
from Spiderweb by Penelope Lively
In those years, people will say, we lost track
of the meaning of we, of you
we found ourselves
reduced to I
and the whole thing became
silly, ironic, terrible:
we were trying to live a personal life
and, yes, that was the only life
we could bear witness to
But the great dark birds of history screamed and plunged
into our personal weather
They were headed somewhere else but their beaks and pinions drove
along the shore, through the rags of fog
where we stood, saying I
from Dark Fields of the Republic
Reading this now, it is difficult not to read it as a "9-11 poem", though it was written a decade earlier.