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five of such subtle phraseology, labyrinthine grammar, and malicious ambiguity that, released into the mortal world, they would certainly have formed the basis of a new religion or, at the least, a management course.
Even in Hell, Trubshaw had continued to demonstrate an unswerving devotion to the penny ante, the nit-picking, the terribly trivial, the very things that had poisoned his soul and condemned him in the first place.
“Of course,” said Cabal, who spoke Bare-Faced Liar like a native when the situation called for it.
The Mayor of Murslaugh was a jolly, ebullient man of the sort who, in a well-ordered world, would be called Fezziwig. That his name was Brown was a powerful indictment on the sorry state of things.
There were sage nods from the sort of people in the crowd who always nod sagely when somebody else says something clever.
From a harbinger of doom he had become a conquering hero with a heart of gold, in the space of a few mendacious sentences.
An insane urge to find a good woman, settle down, and have a couple of kids—one of each—lit upon him like a thing out of a nightmare.
He looked sharply at the crow. The near-irresistible desire it had been feeling to take off with his nice, shiny spectacles suddenly evaporated. Instead, it tried to grin in a charming, inoffensive, non-spectacles-thieving fashion.
a face like a wet Wednesday, dressed all in black, and, frankly, lacking
(it was intended to vanish, but he’d had so little practice at this trick that, to the untrained eye, it simply looked as if he was putting the ticket away in his pocket).
With Leonie, “one day” was “tomorrow,” except on those occasions when it was “today.”
Now it just meant incomprehensible to the uncomprehending.
Barrow, who had never willingly leapt to a conclusion in his life, carefully put up a stepladder beside one and ascended cautiously.
“Oh, that’s not fair. If people are going to check the facts every time I open my mouth, where does that leave most of my conversation?”
The higher centres of Barrow’s mind, his Ego and Super-Ego, were aware that all was not well and were hammering on the bridge door of his mind. Unfortunately, the beastly Mr. Id wasn’t receiving visitors today,
