Tag: quotes

Welcome back, my bookish adventurers, to the fourth and final round of Lovely Books! We started with our first impressions of novels–covers and titles, which we can all agree are very important. But once readers get past the front of a book, they find out very quickly what the story is made of. So we chatted about favorite couples and villains, because characters are often a deal breaker. Well-crafted ones latch onto our hearts and never let go, but shallow or inconsistent characters fall flat and leave us with a stale taste in our mouths.

So. Great covers, check. Great characters, check. But what about the writing? The actual words on a page? The cover can be gorgeous, the characters can be engaging, but if the sentences clunk along, we start losing interest.

I’ve been looking forward to this edition the most, to be honest. Because nothing makes my heart swell with happiness as much as beautiful passages, profound scenes, laugh-till-your-sides-ache dialogue, clever narrative, or scrumptious description. This is the real meat of a story.

“I had forgotten that,” said Eomer. “It is hard to be sure of anything among so many marvels. The world is all grown strange. Elf and Dwarf in company walk in our daily fields; and folk speak with the Lady of the Wood and yet live; and the Sword comes back to war that was broken in the long ages ere the fathers of our fathers rode into the Mark! How shall a man judge what to do in such times?”

“As he ever has judged,” said Aragorn. “Good and ill have not changed since yesteryear; nor are they one thing among Elves and Dwarves and another among Men. It is a man’s part to discern them, as much in the Golden Wood as in his own house.”

–The Two Towers, J.R.R. Tolkien

“Wait a minute!” cried Gimli. “There is another thing that I should like to know first. Was it you, Gandalf, or Saruman that we saw last night?”

“You certainly did not see me,” answered Gandalf, “therefore I must guess that you saw Saruman. Evidently we look so much alike that your desire to make an incurable dent in my hat must be excused.”

–The Two Towers, J.R.R. Tolkien

It seemed to Frodo then that he heard, quite plainly but far off, voices out of the past:

What a pity Bilbo did not stab the vile creature, when he had the chance!

Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need.

I do not feel any pity for Gollum. He deserves death.

Deserves death! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some die that deserve life. Can you give that to them? Then be not too eager to deal out death in the name of justice, fearing for your own safety. Even the wise cannot see all ends.

–The Two Towers, J.R.R. Tolkien

“You know,” he said as he dabbed her eyes. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m Fenworth, bog wizard of Amara. This is my esteemed librarian, Trevithick Librettowit. He’s been known to be in a better mood from time to time, but we must make allowances. He prefers a good book, a comfy chair, a plate of daggarts, tea, and a fire in the fireplace. Unfortunately, we are often called to adventure. Slaying damsels, rescuing dragons in distress, collapsing kingdoms, thwarting evil, purging plagues, that sort of thing.”

–Dragons of the Valley, Donita K. Paul

[Fenworth] “Logic. Logic is a funny thing. Works when things are progressing logically and is totally undependable when variances poke their long noses into the regular way of things.”

Librettowit spoke around a mouthful of gooey pie. “Don’t think you can say that variances possess noses with which they poke.”

“Ah!” Fenworth looked fondly at his librarian, then winked at Bealomondore. “I’ve missed him, you know. Did you note how he did not end the sentence with a preposition? It’s a good trait in a learned man, the ability to speak a sentence properly arranged. But the variance with a nose is a figure of speech, not meant to be taken literally.”

–Dragons of the Valley, Donita K. Paul

[Gandalf] “…And so a great evil of this world will be removed. Other evils there are that may come; for Sauron is himself but a servant or emissary. Yet it is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succour of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule.”

–The Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

Warney made after his friend, gnawing on questions that Krawg’s campfire tale about Tammos Raak and the starcrown trees had inspired. “Why’d they call them starcrowns?”

“The way they caught stars in their branches.”

“And Mawrnash, where they grew . . . How’d it get a name like that?”

“Why, for the Mawrn, of course.” Krawg climbed over a fallen tree and staggered down a steep riverbank, his feet punching up gobs of mud with each step. “You hear me comin’, fish? Comin’ to getcha!”

“Mawrn, Mawrn. That does me no good if’n I don’t know what a Mawrn is, Krawg.”

–Raven’s Ladder, Jeffrey Overstreet

“Tell the Keeper,” [Cal-raven] whispered, “that I don’t know where to go from here . . . When I was a child, I’d have called out myself. It was easier then to believe.”

–Raven’s Ladder, Jeffrey Overstreet

Mr. Gilmer asked him one more question. “About your writing with your left hand, are you ambidextrous, Mr. Ewell?”

“I most positively am not, I can use one hand good as the other. One hand good as the other,” he added, glaring at the defense table.

–To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee

“They almost sold us once, Mummy and Pa.” Wynn confessed this quietly, perhaps to Cortie, perhaps to the ale boy. Perhaps to himself. “They were gonna trade us to Bel Amican Seers. But then they didn’t. They packed up their things, real fastlike. We rode away. We were hungry. But we were together.” He embraced Cortie tight.

The ale boy felt his resistance failing. Emotion swelled in his throat, even though he could not fathom what the boy was feeling.

“Can I cry now?” Wynn whispered.

The ale boy patted him on the shoulder. “Of course,” he said, choking. “I’ll cry with you.”

–Cyndere’s Midnight, Jeffrey Overstreet

An elderly lady stood in the doorway–she was plump the way grannies sometimes are, pillowy and huggable-looking. She kept her white hair tied back behind her head in a poufy bun. She grinned at us and clapped her hands and ran down the ramp, squealing.

“Should I be afraid?” I asked.

“Charlie Sue Hancock is Oliver’s assistant. She gets excited over company.”

Charlie Sue ran at us full speed, both arms straight out like she might take off and fly.

“Should I duck?”

But I didn’t have time to duck. Instead I OOFED! as Charlie Sue swooped in and flung her arms around me and Jonah both. She smelled like coffee and expensive perfume.

“Welcome to Midnight Gulch, Felicity Pickle!” she hollered, pushing me back to take a good look at me.

–A Snicker of Magic, Natalie Lloyd

“Felicity darlin’,” she drawled, “you know what helped me figure out how to put my words together? Music. Music gets my words where they need to go. So you keep catching them words, you hear? Pluck them out of the wind. String them together like the finest set of pearls. Line them up on paper. And if it hurts too much to say them, then you sing them, or whisper them, or write them into a story. But don’t waste them. Your words matter more than you know. You hear?”

–A Snicker of Magic, Natalie Lloyd

“I don’t like how stories always end with folks riding into a sunset,” Mama said. “I’ve never cared for that. I’d rather ride all the way to the end and see that there’s a sunrise still waiting for me. Morning in my eyes, stars at my back.”

–A Snicker of Magic, Natalie Lloyd

It would be nice, and fairly true, to say that “from that time forth Eustace was a different boy.” To be strictly accurate, he began to be a different boy. He had relapses. There were still many days when he could be very tiresome. But most of those I shall not notice. The cure had begun.

–The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, C.S. Lewis

“You are too old, children,” said Aslan, “and you must begin to come close to your own world now.”

“It isn’t Narnia, you know,” sobbed Lucy. “It’s you. We shan’t meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?”

“But you shall meet me, dear one,” said Aslan.

“Are–are you there too, Sir?” said Edmund.

“I am,” said Aslan. “But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”

–The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, C.S. Lewis

Do right. Fear nothing.

–Crazy Dangerous, Andrew Klavan

“Tu-whoo! Ahem! Lord Regent,” said the Owl, stooping down a little and holding its beak near the Dwarf’s ear.

“Heh? What’s that?” said the Dwarf.

“Two strangers, my lord,” said the Owl.

“Rangers! What d’ye mean?” said the Dwarf. “I see two uncommonly grubby man-cubs. What do they want?”

“My name’s Jill,” said Jill, pressing forward. She was very eager to explain the important business on which they had come.

“The girl’s called Jill,” said the Owl, as loud as it could.

“What’s that?” said the Dwarf. “The girls are all killed! I don’t believe a word of it. What girls? Who killed ’em?”

–The Silver Chair, C.S. Lewis

“Don’t you lose heart, Pole,” said Puddleglum. “I’m coming, sure and certain. I’m not going to lose an opportunity like this. It will do me good. They all say–I mean, the other wiggles all say–that I’m too flighty; don’t take life seriously enough. If they’ve said it once, they’ve said it a thousand times. ‘Puddleglum,’ they’ve said, ‘you’re altogether too full of bobance and bounce and high spirits. You’ve got to learn that life isn’t all fricasseed frogs and eel pie. You want something to sober you down a bit. We’re only saying it for your own good, Puddleglum.’ That’s what they say. Now a job like this–a journey up north just as winter’s beginning, looking for a prince who probably isn’t there, by way of a ruined city that no one has ever seen–will be just the thing. If that doesn’t steady a chap, I don’t know what will.”

–The Silver Chair, C.S. Lewis

Dive deep. Drown willingly.

–White, Ted Dekker

“What love can you possible need from the world if you are full of His? None.”

–Outlaw, Ted Dekker

“There are no longer any problems to solve. If there are no longer any problems to solve, there’s no longer any need for correction. If there’s no need for correction, then there’s no need for law. Live in the grace of that which is now perfect, as it is. Be perfect, don’t try to become perfect. You already are, you just don’t know it yet. Be still and know.”

–Eyes Wide Open, Ted Dekker

“The heart is a peculiar thing. It sees and interprets details long before the brain has started to think there might be something worth noticing. The brain resents this skill, however, and will often spitefully do all it can to repress what the heart might be whispering.”

–Shadow Hand, Anne Elisabeth Stengl

“Do you understand, mortal?” Eanrin said. “We Faerie know it’s the spirit that counts, and all else is malleable. Beauty or ugliness; brawn or frailty; height or lack thereof–these appearances can be exchanged with scarcely a thought! But the truth . . . now, that’s another issue. The truth of the thing, the person behind what you perceive with any of your paltry five senses . . . Creature of dust, it’s the truth that counts! And you’ll rarely find more truth than in Faerie tales.”

With those words, the golden man dwindled into the golden cat, and try as he might, the Chronicler could perceive him as nothing else. But he was still Eanrin, and he smiled, pleased with himself. “That wasn’t a half-bad monologue. Do you find yourself inspired to new heights of ambition?”

–Dragonwitch, Anne Elisabeth Stengl

“What can I say?” Cosimo bowed in deference to his friend’s wishes. “We accept your hospitality.”

“Splendid! I do hope you are hungry, good sirs.”

“Ravenous!” roared Cosimo–so loudly that Kit gave a start. But no one else seemed to pay the least attention. “But, might we first pass by Pudding Lane? I have that errand we discussed.”

–The Skin Map, Stephen R. Lawhead

Taggle was absorbed in the meat pie. “It’s covered in bread,” he huffed. “What fool has covered meat with bread?”

–Plain Kate, Erin Bow

Perhaps it was time to stop choosing small spaces.

–Plain Kate, Erin Bow

“Hope never stands alone,” he said in a dry, husky voice. “It is born of valor and perseverance. It rides the back of courage.”

–The Book of Names, D. Barkley Briggs

A mouse slid out from under his hat and scrambled down his sleeve, across his lap, and down to the floor. “Nothing,” said Fenworth, “should distract from a wizard’s dignity.”

–DragonQuest, Donita K. Paul

“Not all tongues that wag cohabit with a brain.”

–DragonFire, Donita K. Paul

“I’m sorry, Mother. It’s just that five days of flying with these characters has made me crawl right over the edge of sanity.”

“I fell over the edge,” Karen said.

“I jumped,” Walter added. “And I can’t seem to climb back up.”

–Enoch’s Ghost, Bryan Davis

(At least I think it was that one . . . Goodreads didn’t say, and at this point I haven’t the time to look it up. Correct me if I’m wrong.)

Halt waited a minute or two but there was no sound except for the jingling of harness and the creaking of leather from their saddles. Finally, the former Ranger could bear it no longer.

“What?”

The question seemed to explode out of him, with a greater degree of violence than he had intended. Taken by surprise, Horace’s bay shied in fright and danced several paces away.

Horace turned an aggrieved look on his mentor as he calmed the horse and brought it back under control.

“What?” he asked Halt, and the smaller man made a gesture of exasperation.

“That’s what I want to know,” he said irritably. “What?“

Horace peered at him. The look was too obviously the sort of look that you give someone who seems to have taken leave of his senses. It did little to improve Halt’s rapidly growing temper.

“What?” said Horace, now totally puzzled.

“Don’t keep parroting at me!” Halt fumed. “Stop repeating what I say! I asked you ‘what,’ so don’t ask me ‘what’ back, understand?”

Horace considered the question for a second or two, then, in his deliberate way, he replied: “No.”

Halt took a deep breath, his eyebrows contracted into a deep V, and beneath them his eyes sparked with anger. But before he could speak, Horace forestalled him.

“What ‘what’ are you asking me?” he said. Then, thinking how to make the question clearer, he added, “Or to put it another way, why are you asking ‘what?'”

Controlling himself with enormous restraint, and making no secret of the fact, Halt said, very precisely: “You were about to ask me a question.”

Horace frowned. “I was?”

Halt nodded. “You were. I saw you take a breath to ask it.”

“I see,” Horace said. “And what was it about?”

For just a second or two, Halt was speechless. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then finally found the strength to speak.

“That is what I was asking you,” he said. “When I said ‘what,’ I was asking you what you were about to ask me.”

“I wasn’t about to ask you ‘what,'” Horace replied, and Halt glared at him suspiciously. It occurred to him that Horace could be indulging himself in a gigantic leg pull, that he was secretly laughing at Halt. This, Halt could have told him, was not a good career move. Rangers were not people who took kindly to being laughed at. He studied the boy’s open face and guileless blue eyes and decided that his suspicion was ill-founded.

“Then what, if I may use that word once more, were you about to ask me?”

Horace drew a breath once more, then hesitated. “I forget,” he said. “What were we talking about?”

–The Battle for Skandia, John Flanagan

“To listen to a poet arguing with himself–for she could scarcely have been said to have borne any part in the discussion–on the merits of blank verse as a dramatic medium was naturally a privilege of which any young lady must be proud, but there could be no denying that to talk for half an hour to a man who listened with interest to anything she said was, if not precisely a relief, certainly a welcome variation in her life.”

–The Grand Sophy, Georgette Heyer

“I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book! –When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library.”

–Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen

There are so many ways to be brave in this world. Sometimes bravery involves laying down your life for something bigger than yourself, or for someone else. Sometimes it involves giving up everything you have ever known, or everyone you have ever loved, for the sake of something greater.

But sometimes it doesn’t.

Sometimes it is nothing more than gritting your teeth through pain, and the work of every day, the slow walk toward a better life.

That is the sort of bravery I must have now.

–Allegiant, Veronica Roth

Una closed her eyes and wished that the ground would open and swallow her up. The nature of the universe seemed to be against her, however, and no sudden chasm rifted the turf beneath her feet. Instead she had to listen to her father ask in a stern voice, “And who might you be, sir?”

The stranger bowed. “Forgive me. I am Prince Aethelbald of Farthestshore.”

Prince Felix muttered, “Aethelbald? I don’t think we can forgive that.”

–Heartless, Anne Elisabeth Stengl

Be not deceived, Wormwood, our cause is never more in jeopardy than when a human, no longer desiring but still intending to do our Enemy’s will, looks round upon a universe in which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys.

–The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis

“Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?”

–The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien

Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind.

“Pooh!” he whispered.

“Yes, Piglet?”

“Nothing,” said Piglet, taking Pooh’s paw. “I just wanted to be sure of you.”

–Winnie-the-Pooh, A.A. Milne

–The Last Battle, C.S. Lewis

That was a frightfully long post, and yet it was only but a small sample of the glorious wordsmithing I love. I did have full intentions of including more narrative bits and descriptions and whatnot–and of delving into a greater variety of books as well–but it seems I leaned more toward humor and dialogue and wise sayings. Maybe they’re easier to find . . .

Anyway, before I wrap this up, I must say I’m quite sorry for not having read/commented on some of the more recent linked up posts. I greatly appreciate your participation, truly! This week has just rip-roared right by me. Once the craziness blows over (read: after this weekend), I plan to crash all your parties (I mean, read your blogs) and leave fangirly comments.

Thank you for joining me so enthusiastically! It’s hard to believe this month is almost over, and that the first Lovely Books post went up four whole weeks ago. I’ve really enjoyed all the bookish discussions happening here and elsewhere, and I hope you have too.

It’s not too late to join up on any of the themes yet–you have until March 5th. So if you’re about to burst with book quotes of your own collection (or any of the other things mentioned: covers/titles, couples, villains), have at it!

Once more, here’s the link-up form and the brief instructions. Thanks again, y’all!