Mandy > Mandy's Quotes

“I could dance with disaster and grin to the end.”
― Glen Cook, Bleak Seasons

“And he was limp, a stringless puppet”
― Max Allan Collins, Quarry

“Maybe we should talk when you've calmed down."
"Okay, then. Call me back next year.”
― Max Allan Collins, Quarry

“A black book. The only book permitted in the Commonwealth. A fitting emblem that, a fitting contradiction. They were a people who called slavery freedom, a nation that called narrative truth, a culture that glorified its People by destroying the very concept of personhood. How could they be anything but a nation of book burners founded on a book?”
― Christopher Ruocchio, Kingdoms of Death

“Lately, light’s not as bright as once it was.”
― Ellen Kushner, Thomas the Rhymer

“Don’t make a noise, or I’ll send the devil a henchman!”
― Robert E. Howard, The Complete Chronicles of Conan

“He looked up at me and his face was now innocent and pleading. "Am I truly damned, captain? Am I bound for Hell?"

I could not reply.

When he was dead I raised myself to my feet and I looked about me. Everything was still. A loneliness had come upon my soul.

There was darkness everywhere now but in the forest. And even here there were wisps of grey, as if evil crept in.

I lifted my head to the sky and shook my fist, "Oh, I reject you. I reject your Heaven and I reject your hell. Do as you wish with me, but know that your desires are petty and your ambitions have no meaning!"

I addressed no-one. I addressed the universe. I addressed a void.”
― Michael Moorcock, The War Hound and the World's Pain

“With some of the wives of old friends I have been able to quench that initial antagonism. They soon find out that I am aware of what every single person knows—that the world is always a little out of focus when there is no one who gives the final total damn about whether you live or die. It is the price you pay for being a rambler, and if you don't read the price tag, you are a dull one indeed.”
― John D. MacDonald, Pale Gray for Guilt

“I sat on my heels and squinted up at her. Dark red hair and disapproval, outlined against a blue December sky. "Win a few, lose a few, honey," I said.

"What are you" she asked.

I stood up and put my hands on her upper arms, near the shoulders and plucked her up off the sawhorse and held her. Maybe I was smiling at her. I wouldn't know. What I was saying seemed to come from a strange direction, as if I were standing several feet behind myself. I said some nonsense about smelling these things out, about sensing the quickest way to open people up, and so you do it, because if you don't, then maybe you miss one little piece of something you should know, and then you go join the long long line of the dead ones, because you were careless.

"And," I heard myself say, "Tush killed himself but not with that damned engine block. He killed himself with something he said, or something he did, and he didn't know he was killing himself. Maybe he didn't listen very good, or catch on soon enough. I listen very good. I catch on. And when I add up this tab and name the price, I'm going to look at some nice gray skin, honey. Gray and pale, oily and guilty as hell, and some eyes shifting around looking for some way out of it. But every damned door will be nailed shut.”
― John D. MacDonald, Pale Gray for Guilt