Down Cemetery Road Quotes

“On discovering a fire, the instructions ran, shout Fire and try to put it out. It was useful, heart-of the matter advice, and could be extended almost indefinitely in any direction. On discovering your husband's guests are arseholes, shout Arseholes and try to put them out.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“There was a kind of boss Amos Crane had read about: the seagull manager. Who flaps in, makes a lot of noise, shits over everything and leaves.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“The Trophy Wife wore a red dress four measured inches above the knee, and lipstick in a shade to match; this plus the kind of face that usually came with a slogan slapped above it, and a figure men would pay money to see with staples through the middle.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“So she was waiting for the lecture; prolonged silence always led to the lecture. It was the last thing Sarah needed, and a list of the first things would have filled a book: a hug, a bath, an ear, some sympathy.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“I’m from yeoman stock. Generations back, my family were farmers.’ ‘Generations back everybody’s family were farmers.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“Thought Police probably held a warrant for his arrest.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“His face growled at her, all his features colliding, as if the bland disguise had dropped away, showing the child of darkness beneath”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“intransigent”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“Even Sarah closed her eyes. When she opened them, the first thing she registered was the scarred desk; a wound of bright wood gleaming against its rich dark surface. Guns don’t hurt people: people hurt guns. Also expensive furniture.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“Her flash of anger expired, leaving her weary and next to tears. That was the trouble with emotions: once they started coming back, they chose their own order.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“Limbo was for those denied heaven. It was also a loophole for those otherwise destined for hell.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“It was the irritation in his voice as he spoke of how worried he’d been, as if everything that had happened to her had been just another way of something happening to him.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“Birmingham was a large, disappointing city, neither different enough from the one she’d left for her to feel she’d travelled any distance, nor similar enough to allow her to feel at home.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“Here, Sarah expected segregation to set in: Gerard would stride on with Mark and discuss manly things, while she was left to dredge up enough small talk to keep Paula from slipping into a coma.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“She kept telling herself that these things are rarely as bad as you expect, but couldn’t help suspecting she invalidated that premise by relying on it.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“She thought of the bonsai trees gardeners slaved over. She didn’t know much about it, but what she thought was this: that there were trees, left to themselves, that might grow sixty feet tall, but instead had their roots punished to produce something small, cosseted, and ornamental. Something making up in charm what it had lost in dignity.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“She thought of the bonsai trees gardeners slaved over. She didn’t know much about it, but what she thought was this: that there were trees, left to themselves, that might grow sixty feet tall, but instead had their roots punished to produce something small, cosseted, and ornamental.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“He’s a player, he’s a mover and shaker,” Mark had said. Once he’d have said wanker and meant the same thing. And for Sarah that first look was enough: here was a man with a fine veneer of civilization, under which he was living in a cave.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“She had a beautiful smile, which was turned on most of the time, but in repose Sarah had seen in her face an almost heartbreaking sadness, as if her natural optimism were based on the knowledge that life couldn’t treat her worse than it had done already.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“That was one of the discoveries he’d made: that the body was a kind of clock. It couldn’t be rewound, and couldn’t be replaced. When it finished telling the time, its job was done . . .”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“uncorked several bottles of wine at once, some to breathe, some not to get the chance,”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“like a child’s drawing of summer.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“there were trees, left to themselves, that might grow sixty feet tall, but instead had their roots punished to produce something small, cosseted, and ornamental. Something making up in charm what it had lost in dignity.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“A garage dribbled neon in oily puddles.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“But not everybody makes use of the ones they get.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“but what she thought was this: that there were trees, left to themselves, that might grow sixty feet tall, but instead had their roots punished to produce something small, cosseted, and ornamental. Something making up in charm what it had lost in dignity. Marriage was a psychological bonsai; maybe society was. Still encouraging women, after all these years, to be small, cosseted, and ornamental. Still hacking away at their roots to keep them from growing taller than anybody else. You couldn’t even call it deliberate. It had grown instinctive, a natural form of pruning. To a man like Gerard Inchon, it was a duty: barefoot and pregnant kept them quiet. You didn’t talk about The Enemy, but that was what you meant.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“We are beyond facts here. We are in an age of miracles and wonders.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“sparse hair, stressed features – he looked as if he’d unexpectedly been made leader of the Conservative Party, and hadn’t yet found a way of passing the buck.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“We are in an age of miracles and wonders.” “But what about the child?”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road

“He had never really lost his youth; he just kept it in a small room off the landing.”
― Mick Herron, Down Cemetery Road