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On gray and cloudy days, the Baudelaires had the beach to themselves to do what they liked.
If you have ever lost someone very important to you, then you already know how it feels, and if you haven’t, you cannot possibly imagine it.
to be in one’s own room, in one’s own bed, can often make a bleak situation a little better,
The front door needed to be repainted, and carved in the middle of it was an image of an eye.
They could see, in the space of pale skin between his tattered trouser cuff and his black shoe, that Count Olaf had an image of an eye tattooed on his ankle, matching the eye on his front door. They wondered how many other eyes were in Count Olaf’s house, and whether, for the rest of their lives, they would always feel as though Count Olaf were watching them even when he wasn’t nearby.
Count Olaf was neither interesting nor kind; he was demanding, short-tempered, and bad-smelling. The only good thing to be said for Count Olaf is that he wasn’t around very often.
Klaus began to sob, not so much from the pain but from rage at the terrible situation they were in.
Violet tried to picture Count Olaf as a youngster, but couldn’t. His shiny eyes, bony hands, and shadowy smile all seemed to be things only adults possess.
The really frightening thing about Olaf, she realized, was that he was very smart after all.
VFD likes to spout nonsense about how intelligence = good and ignorance = evil and they must be the good guys because they are oh so booksmart. but it's never that black and white. the truth resists simplicity.
Count Olaf would take care to stay out of sight as he planned his next move. He was far too clever to be captured by the likes of Mr. Poe.
They didn’t understand it, but like so many unfortunate events in life, just because you don’t understand it doesn’t mean it isn’t so.

