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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #detect
Elphaba’s face darkened again. Then she asked, hesitantly, as if afraid of the answer, “So, how do you get the evil life force?” “From innocent people, Elphaba,” Nick spoke so quietly he almost whispered. “I must draw the life force from innocent people. The more innocent they are, the more evil the murder is.” Elphaba jerked as though a shock had struck her in the heart. “Oh, that’s terrible!” “Yes, it is. Terrible. That word doesn’t even do it justice, terrible. There is no Magick more terrible than Magick that cheats death. I have cheated death, and death extracts its price.” Elphaba silently looked at Nick, her expression of revulsion enough to communicate her feelings. “You shouldn’t act so surprised, malyutka,” Nick said softly. “It is who I am. And it’s worked for me for centuries.” Elphaba sat for a moment, trying to calm herself. “Yes, you’re right. I knew that part of you was a monster. Sometimes it’s easy to forget, since you seem to be such a decent guy.” “Lyches are monsters. ↗
For a while, Criticism travels side by side with the Work, then Criticism vanishes and it's the Readers who keep pace. The journey may be long or short. Then the Readers die one by one and the Work continues on alone, although a new Criticism and new Readers gradually fall into step with it along its path. Then Criticism dies again and the Readers die again and the Work passes over a trail of bones on its journey toward solitude. To come near the work, to sail in her wake, is a sign of certain death, but new Criticism and new Readers approach her tirelessly and relentlessly and are devoured by time and speed. Finally the Work journeys irremediably alone in the Great Vastness. And one day the Work dies, as all things must die and come to an end: the Sun and the Earth and the Solar System and the Galaxy and the farthest reaches of man's memory. Everything that begins as comedy ends in tragedy. ↗
#book-reviews #inaki-echevarne #literary-criticism #savage-detectives #the-written-word
A selection of quotes from The Night of Harrison Monk’s Death (Jane Hetherington's Adventures in Detection: 1) "Is this one of the more unusual cases of safe-breaking you've been asked to investigate, Mrs Hetherington?" "Remember your private detective wants to be able to sleep soundly at night and in their own bed, not one supplied as her Majesty's pleasure." "It seems to be an open and shut case doesn't it? But it's not you know? How do you know if anything is what it seems?" "But where is Cheung kin?" "When I first set eyes on your father, he was spying on a man from between two volumes of the Encyclopaedia Britannica." "I don't think I need say more." "On the contrary, if you want me to have any idea what you're talking about, I think you do." "Why don't you report it to the police?" "Because I stole it in the first place didn't I?" "It's something of a mystery, I admit." "Vanished into thin air!" "You sound so sensible Mrs Hetherington. Please help us get to the bottom of this." Ah, thought Jane – the old story. "No body was found?" "Shall I put the kettle on?" "Only if you fill it with whiskey." "The course of true love didn't run smoothly for me either, you know." "Life has its tragedies for sure." "… What do I want? I want money that's what I want. I want money." She was even more horrified by the words she heard next. Callum MacCallum knew what it was like to be an outsider. ↗
#crime #female-private-detective #mystery #suspense #whodunnit
I pulled the MG in beside him at the curb and he got in. "This thing ain't big enough for either one of us," he said. "When you getting something that fits?" "It goes with my preppy look," I said. "You get one of these, they let you drive around the north shore, watch polo, anything you want." I let the clutch in and turned right on Dartmouth. "How you get laid in one of these?" Hawk said. "You just don't understand preppy," I said. "I know it's not your fault. You're only a couple generations out of the jungle. I realize that. But if you're preppy you don't get laid in a car." "Where do you get laid if you preppy?" I sniffed. "One doesn't," I said. "Preppies gonna be outnumbered in a while," Hawk said. ↗
Why did so many teenagers fall for Stanley Horowitz’s tricks?” “These were impressionable teenagers,” Nick explained. “Many of them were devoted fans of romantic Vampyre stories. They over-romanticized what it means to be a Vampyre, and that gave Stanley a way to manipulate them.” “I’ve read Twilight,” Tamara said. “My daughter is a huge fan. Is she in any danger?” “The danger arises from wanting to belong to the in crowd so badly, you lose sight of what’s real and what’s fantasy.” “Surely today’s teenagers know that vampires are fantasy,” Tamara said. “Possibly. But remember, Vampyres are not romantic. Vampyres are dead. They are walking reminders of tragedy. Loving one is necrophilia. And wanting to be one is the first step on the road to catastrophe. ↗
Elphaba gave him a sidelong glance. “I think you enjoy going to school, Nick. Are you sure canoodling with teenage girls isn’t your ulterior motive?” “Perish the thought, Elphaba, perish the thought. I’m too old for that.” Nick winked. “By about eight hundred years. ↗
Good, evil, these are human concepts, ways people have for understanding what it means to be alive,” Nick said. “Before people came along, this planet was teeming with life, fighting to survive, to live long enough to reproduce, completing the circle of life.” “I’m with you so far,” Elphaba said. “The circle of life is an essential Wiccan principle, in spite of The Lion King.” Nick ignored Elphaba’s bit of humor as his mood became more serious. “Precisely so. And in this circle of life, you have predators and prey. The predators must kill to eat. If they don’t, they starve. Are the predators evil?” “No, of course not. They’re simply acting on their nature.” “What is human nature, then? Are we a species that builds societies of trust and cooperation, or are we a species that seeks power over our fellow man, even if that means fighting wars or otherwise killing him?” Elphaba frowned, carefully considering her answer. “I’d like to think we are a species of trust and cooperation.” “Our entire history is a story of war, of murder and mayhem, of blood running in the streets,” Nick said quietly. “Yes, yes it is.” Elphaba leaned back, grimacing. “We are both,” Nick said. “A species of cooperation, and a species of strife. We fight wars, and we also establish the rule of law to mete out justice to the criminals in our midst. Humans are both good and evil. ↗
When I finally caught up with Abraham Trahearne, he was drinking beer with an alcoholic bulldog named Fireball Roberts in a ramshackle joint just outside of Sonoma, California, drinking the heart right out of a fine spring afternoon. ↗
