The Q Quotes

“It is one of the great arts of the human soul," Ezekiel said to himself.
Her hand on the door, Quincy shifted and looked back at her uncle's profile. "What is?"
"Staying with someone. Companionship is one of the great arts of the human soul.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“Quincy and Fisher walked through all this in silence. Silence was the most common stock-in-trade between them, and the portfolio of their friendship was thick with it. So, without words, they stepped across the streets, their feet pressing the pavement with the same sounds, their toes turned just so; they knew what life was like at each other's side. Sometimes he would speak, or she would, small offerings on the altar of their joint survival.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“If she could walk away, she would; her pride demanded at least that much from her. But Quincy knew that her heart beat with the rhythm of the presses in the back room, that her blood ran black with ink, and that her mind filled with reams of numbers and projections and plans. The Q was Quincy's only vital organ, so she would play the game.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“In all actuality, Quincy knew that, when riding in a wagon, your thoughts had plenty of room to wander and move and never bump into those of your companions. But in a carriage, with its confined space, people often felt compelled to speak with one another, even when their companion didn't wish it. And Quincy did not wish it. She thought that the truest test of humanity was riding in a coach and saying absolutely nothing to one's traveling companions. Few, if any, had ever succeeded.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“The station was filling with more movement and noise and light, as the morning sun began to bounce and rattle off the brass and glass of the building. Quincy pushed through the crowd, her eyes towards the ground, her feet guiding her out of the station. She only lifted her head when she came out onto the sidewalk. And there, before her, a familiar figure was waiting, standing with a paper in one hand, watching the flow of traffic. He saw her and waved in silence, somehow knowing it wasn’t a morning for many words.

“Did Fisher tell you to come?” Quincy said, her voice sounding so unlike itself—sounding yearning.

“No,” Arch replied. Then he shook his head as confirmation, as if it were an important truth she needed to know two ways. “But I knew this was his train.”

“You missed him.”

“I didn’t come for him. I came for you.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“Do you play?”

Quincy jerked her eyes away from the instrument to find Lord Arch watching her, his mouth drawn in a very familiar straight line.

“Only for myself, now that Ezekiel is dead,” she answered truthfully.

“How delightful,” he said, smiling, his handsome face giving way to the refined wrinkles of his age. “Why don’t you play for yourself now, and I’ll just listen?”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“She kept thinking that a time like this required words-one million lines of type, laid out perfectly, with no ink stains, no backward letters-to say what should be said. But that couldn't happen, and she didn't know what else to put in its place.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“The song reminded her of grief, of emotions that were simpler as a child, more straightforward, that were now taken and turned into something she was hesitant to touch but could not forget.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“I refuse to be silent when I know of an injustice and am in a position to make it known. Enough preaching? Not wanted? Not needed? ... I say: Preach! Preach! If you know of a higher ideal, if you see a better way for mankind to exist, then preach! Don't sit quietly by because of your own imperfections! What happens when a set of imperfect people spend their time talking about becoming better? Chances are one or two of them might actually choose to become better. Unless we buy the hedonistic drivel of the day, what keeps us from it? Are we so scared of failing? We're human! We fail. We fall.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“His touch felt like coming back, and Quincy realized she had been waiting for it. When he pulled away, both of his hands now on the sides of her face, his eyes searching hers for answers, Quincy nodded then wrapped her arms around him. She pressed her face to his chest, and his response was to gather her to him, saying something she couldn't her.

And there it was, the heartbeat she had heard the night of the Fothergils' ball, pulsing again in the shell of her ear. Quincy closed her eyes from relief. It gave her the same comfort the sound of the press gave her. It was a familiar machine.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“Quincy didn’t look away from Arch’s face, and she felt something burn in her chest, the same overwhelmingly fierce pride she had felt when looking at a perfectly inked Q sheet or an expansion report that exceeded even her high expectations.

“You will never lose your passion for truth,” Quincy promised.

Arch held his breath a moment, his eyes searching hers. “You say that so confidently.”

“You shake with it, Arch,” Quincy said, lifting a shoulder. “I suppose it’s one of your greater virtues.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“As they walked down the stairs to the wide sidewalk, Quincy said, “I never thought you for a churchgoer, Arch.”
“You forced me to it, St. Claire. Some demons drive a man to the bottle, some demons drive a man to the church.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“But love?” She made a face. “It’s an all-encompassing machine, with no parts but the weak human heart. You give everything to it with no promise of security in return.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“She paused before continuing, "What is it you want, anyway? I mean, to expand your business? Triple the income? Buy yourself a castle in the south of Spain and leave Constable Catch endlessly running in circles?"

"Is that all improvement would be to you?" Crow's eyes narrowed as he surveyed Quincy's face. "Is that the pinnacle of where you would like to be?"

"Is there anything wrong with it?"

"No." Crow shook his head and shifted so he was facing Quincy straight on. "But is there anything right with it, love? Now, that's another question.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“Quincy stood before the black casket, hands behind her back, a ruined pile of rusted thoughts and sharp emotions torn up and left in her empty chest.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“I say: Preach! Preach! If you know of a higher ideal, if you see a better way for mankind to exist, then preach! Don’t sit quietly by because of your own imperfections! What happens when a set of imperfect people spend their time talking about becoming better? Chances are one or two of them might actually choose to become better. Unless we buy the hedonistic drivel of the day, what keeps us from it? Are we so scared of failing? We’re human! We fail. We fall.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“What happens when a set of imperfect people spend their time talking about becoming better? Chances are one or two of them might actually choose to become better. Unless we buy the hedonistic drivel of the day, what keeps us from it? Are we so scared of failing? We’re human! We fail. We fall.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“There are few things more tedious than a friend who will not graciously receive.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“Amazing how often the words fool and love go together,”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“But if you gamble, go all in, and the payoff comes, you’ve won, Quincy.” “And if it doesn’t?” She looked up at him. “Then you are left with the memory of what it felt like to win with that person in that moment, and worth every fools’ hunt to have is the memory of love.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“Faith is part of any worthwhile endeavor.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“The greatest risk can bring in the greatest haul.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“Survived being the operative word. But were you living, love?”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“We sin. And yet something calls us towards perfection. Do you know why? Because we’re good for it. We have the capacity to examine our lives and improve, to change. But we can’t do it just on our own.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“Why Fall?” Quincy asked as she leaned over a rail that was, itself, leaning over the cliffside. “Why all this—” she hesitated, looking for the right word as she moved her eyes towards him, “exuberance?” “Because the fall is when all good things are made manifest.” Arch waved his hand as if he were the beneficent spirit of the season. “The harvests are come on, rolling into the city, a message of bounty and abundance. The trees are turning, their color revealing their most beautiful intentions, kept to themselves all year long until now.” He paused, turned, and looked at Quincy with a directness she now understood to be tied to his strongest feelings. “I always feel I might be my best self in the fall; I wish to pen my best essays, listen to the purest music, taste the best fruit I can find.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“Arch leaned back into his chair, but he was entertaining a smile. “There are few things more tedious than a friend who will not graciously receive.”

Quincy could have explained that nine years of poverty might have something to do with it, but instead she just replied, “You must find me maddening, then.”

Arch’s mouth twitched. “You, ma chérie, are something else entirely.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“She kept thinking that a time like this required words—one million lines of type, laid out perfectly, with no ink stains, no backward letters—to say what should be said. But that couldn’t happen, and she didn’t know what else to put in its place.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“After some time, Fisher said, “Per aspera ad astra.”

Quincy turned towards him. “What’s that?”

“Latin. It means to the stars through difficulties.”

By natural extension of the conversation, she looked up, viewing the faint points of light fighting down through a soft haze. “Does anyone make it, Fisher? To the stars?”

“I believe we have, Quince. We’ve seen the worst but known the best.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“Amazing how often the words fool and love go together,” Quincy drawled.”
― Beth Brower, The Q

“She froze. Several silent moments passed between them. More than one stranger walked around their still figures. She tried to speak, but Quincy was mortified from feeling at such a severe disadvantage, something she had not felt since she was a little girl on the streets, a little girl in the foundling factory, a little girl who had sworn that she would never feel this way again.”
― Beth Brower, The Q