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by
Philip Kerr
Read between
August 25 - August 29, 2022
rictus.
insalubrious
German doctors have always regarded themselves as being as important as God. Indeed, it’s probably worse than that. God probably thinks he’s a German doctor.
alacrity.
If there was one thing I had learned in the war it was that decent, law-abiding family men were capable of the most bestial acts of murder and brutality.
“Can I help you?” he asked in a voice like liquid furniture polish, with lips stretched tight across teeth that were as white as his collar in what, among the Holy Inquisition anyway, must have passed for a smile.
mansard roof,
dirndl,
sylvan
“It’s the difference between war and peace, that’s all,” I told him. “War makes killing seem feasible and matter-of-fact. In peacetime, it isn’t. Not in the same way. In peacetime everyone just worries that if you kill someone it will leave a dreadful mess on the carpet. Worrying about the mess on the carpet and whether it matters is the only real difference between war and peace.”
rococo
tintinnabulation