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(Look, if you don’t make a fool of yourself over animals, at least in private, you aren’t to be trusted. That was one of my father’s maxims, and it’s never failed me yet.)
(I am never sure what to think of Americans. Their brashness can be charming, but just when I decide that I rather like them, I meet one that I wish would go back to America, and then perhaps keep going off the far edge, into the sea.)
I offered Denton my hand, because Americans will shake hands with the table if you don’t stop them.
Sometimes it’s hard to know if someone is insulting or just an American.
“They say mushrooms spring up where the Devil walks,” said Angus sourly. “And where fairies dance.”
It was fun. People get hung up on happiness and joy, but fun will take you at least as far and it’s generally cheaper to obtain.
But there’s a price you pay for being good at some things.
“Most of us go to the Devil without him having to personally oversee things.
His voice had that light veneer of humor that we all get, because if we don’t pretend we’re laughing, we might have to admit just how broken we are.
But death is when you are allowed to ask foolish questions and to say all the unforgivable things that will be immediately forgiven.
It came to me, as we made our way up the steps, that anyone could have been under that shroud. I could not tell that it was Maddy. I could not tell that it was anything human at all.
The dead don’t walk.
We cannot habeas the corpus.
There were three veterans at that table, battle-scarred soldiers who had served their countries honorably in more than one war … and all three of us screamed like small children and recoiled in horror.
“I assure you, I am not some shrinking violet who requires an escort to safety, lest I faint!”
Mushrooms don’t think. Yes, and the dead don’t move either.
The dead may walk, but I will not walk among them.
I listened to the roar of the fire and thought of Roderick saying, “I know exactly where I would place the match.”
