“for in this world there is no achieving anything all alone. Cast in thy lot and share the purse ”
“Where is the fruitful family to fill the rooms of this house, which his grandfather built and his father made fine? The dead are here, without a doubt. He feels their touch everywhere in its pitched floorboards and staircase spine, and in the voices of the church bells, St Paul’s at the front door, St Nicholas’s at the back. The hands of the shipwrights are alive here in the long curves of its beams, which recall the bellies of great ships; its lintels carved with birds and flowers, angels and swords, testament for ever to the labour and visions of men long dead.There are no children here to marvel in their turn at the skill of Deptford woodcarvers...what value to his fortune if it withers on the vine with no sons to pluck it down?And yet sometimes there is something more...”
“It is the size of an infant, and like an infant its ribcage is delicate and pathetic beneath its parchment skin, and its head is large, and its fists are drawn up to its face. But this is as far as the comparison may be extended.For no infant has such fearful claws, and no infant such a snarl, with such sharp fangs in it. And no infant’s torso ends in the tail of a fish.”
“This is the problem with women. Men are not fearful; they build one another to greatness. Women believe their only power is in tearing one another down.’”
For class is a type of bubble, a membrane around one, and although one might grow within this membrane, and strain against it, it is impossible to break free from it. And a man of nobility is always such in his soul, however he may fall; and a man of humble sort is always such in his soul, however he may climb.
“ On Mr Murray’s advice, he procures a tall glass dome, under which they balance the mermaid upright. ‘So as to look its visitors in the eye,’ Murray explains with relish. They set it up on a small table in a room just large enough for visitors to pass all the way about the creature, and satisfy themselves of its authenticity before leaving the way they came in. ‘There need be no more adornment than this,’ says Murray, but even so Mr Hancock commissions a nearby draughtsman to imagine the dramatic moment in which the Japanese fishermen caught the creature in their nets.”
As he draws closer the air takes on an oily weight, which settles on the clothes and layers the nostrils with a greasy, deep-water scent. And the nearer he comes, the worse the smell becomes, until it blooms into the stench of ghastly decay: the blankets of flesh peeled from whales on the Greenland ice have lain for days and weeks upon the ships that bear them home, reeking and sweating and oozing.
Whoredom appeals to Angelica's character in a great host of ways: she likes to live closely with other women and share her secrets with them; she likes to sing and drink and dance; she likes to be cosseted; she likes to be looked at. What she likes best of all is to be desired. It tickles her to see men grown stupid when they gaze upon her, aII soft-eyed and slow in the head. In fact it inflames her.
On the threshold [Sukie] turns and draws breath, but her courage confounds her and she says nothing. 'Sukie,' says Angelica, 'you are wanted here.' 'Not by him.' 'Aye, by Mr Hancock too.' 'He -has you now.' Angelica feels rather a pang. 'He would be very grieved to hear you say that.' She reaches out a hand. 'Here, come sit with me. We shall talk on it.'
If anybody in the crowd had turned, they might have observed a dusky-skinned girl in a broad straw hat, holding her starched white gown clear of the ground. Mrs. Chappell is alert to the last to a remarkable face or a fine form, but it is this girl's singular poise that now arrests her attention. She moves like a dancer or a duchess, her back quite straight, as if movement were for her a long-studied art, or an expression of intellectual delicacy.
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