The Penultimate Peril (A Series of Unfortunate Events, #12)

by Lemony Snicket

right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant.

‘To be daunted by no difficulty; to keep heart when all have lost it; to go through intrigue spotless; to forgo even ambition when the end is gained—who can say this is not greatness?’

usually the denouement of a story is not the last event in the heroes’ lives, or the last trouble that befalls them. It is often the second-to-last event, or the penultimate peril.

“Yes,” Justice Strauss said. “We observed rings on all the wooden furniture, from people refusing to use coasters. Obviously there are many villains staying in the hotel.”

Neither were you, unless of course I am wrong, in which case welcome to the world, little baby, and congratulations on learning to read so early in life.

“Wicked people never have time for reading,” Dewey said. “It’s one of the reasons for their wickedness.”

The burning of a book is a sad, sad sight, for even though a book is nothing but ink and paper, it feels as if the ideas contained in the book are disappearing as the pages turn to ashes and the cover and binding—which is the term for the stitching and glue that holds the pages together—blacken and curl as the flames do their wicked work. When someone is burning a book, they are showing utter contempt for all of the thinking that produced its ideas, all of the labor that went into its words and sentences, and all of the trouble that befell the author, from the swarm of termites that tried to destroy his notes, to the large boulder that someone rolled onto the illustrator as he sat by the edge of the pond waiting for the delivery of the manuscript.

they saw Charles and Sir, who were holding hands so as not to lose one another,