All books are doors; and some of them are wardrobes. Susanna Clarke More Quotes by Susanna Clarke More Quotes From Susanna Clarke She wore a gown the color of storms, shadows, and rain and a necklace of broken promises and regrets. Susanna Clarke regret color rain Can a magician kill a man by magic?” Lord Wellington asked Strange. Strange frowned. He seemed to dislike the question. “I suppose a magician might,” he admitted, “but a gentleman never would. Susanna Clarke magic gentleman men He understood for the first time that the world is not dumb at all, but merely waiting for someone to speak to it in a language it understands. Susanna Clarke dumb waiting world And the name of the one shall be Fearfulness. And the name of the other shall be Arrogance... Well, clearly you are not Fearfulness, so I suppose you must be Arrogance.' This was not very polite. Susanna Clarke polite arrogance names Sing like no one is listening. Susanna Clarke inspirational love life It has been remarked (by a lady infinitely cleverer than the present author) how kindly disposed the world in general feels to young people who either die or marry. Imagine then the interest that surrounded Miss Wintertowne! No young lady ever had such advantages before: for she died upon the Tuesday, was raised to life in the early hours of Wednesday morning, and was married upon the Thursday; which some people thought too much excitement for one week. Susanna Clarke tuesday morning people I was told once by some country people that a magician should never tell his dreams because the telling will make them come true. But I say that is great nonsense. Susanna Clarke dream country people Time and I have quarrelled. All hours are midnight now. I had a clock and a watch, but I destroyed them both. I could not bear the way they mocked me. Susanna Clarke midnight watches life Such nonsense!" declared Dr Greysteel. "Whoever heard of cats doing anything useful!" "Except for staring at one in a supercilious manner," said Strange. "That has a sort of moral usefulness, I suppose, in making one feel uncomfortable and encouraging sober reflection upon one's imperfections. Susanna Clarke imperfection cat reflection There is nothing else in magic but the wild thought of the bird as it casts itself into the void. There is no creature upon the earth with such potential for magic. Even the least of them may fly straight out of this world and come by chance to the Other Lands. Where does the wind come from that blows upon your face, that fans the pages of your book? Where the harum-scarum magic of small wild creatures meets the magic of Man, where the language of the wind and the rain and the trees can be understood, there we will find the Raven King. Susanna Clarke kings rain book A piece of writing is like a piece of magic. You create something out of nothing. Susanna Clarke inspirational life art Houses, like people, are apt to become rather eccentric if left too much on their own; this house was the architectural equivalent of an old gentleman in a worn dressing-gown and torn slippers, who got up and went to bed at odd times of day, and who kept up a continual conversation with friends no one else could see. Susanna Clarke gentleman house people Oh! And they read English novels! David! Did you ever look into an English novel? Well, do not trouble yourself. It is nothing but a lot of nonsense about girls with fanciful names getting married. Susanna Clarke girl names looks There must come a time when the bullets will run out Susanna Clarke bullets running How quickly was every bad thing discovered to be the fault of the previous administration (an evil set of men who wedded general stupidity to wickedness of purpose). Susanna Clarke stupidity evil men And how shall I think of you?' He considered a moment and then laughed. 'Think of me with my nose in a book! Susanna Clarke noses book thinking Well, I suppose one ought not to employ a magician and then complain that he does not behave like other people. Susanna Clarke complaining doe people But when the fairy sang the whole world listened to him. Stephen felt clouds pause in their passing; he felt sleeping hills shift and murmur; he felt cold mists dance. He understood for the first time that the world is not dumb at all, but merely waiting for someone to speak to it in a language it understands. In the fairy’s song the earth recognized the names by which it called itself. Susanna Clarke sleep clouds song It is these black clothes," said Strange. "I am like a leftover piece of funeral, condemned to walk about the Town, frightening people into thinking of their own mortality. Susanna Clarke clothes people thinking Some years ago there was in the city of York a society of magicians. They met upon the third Wednesday of every month and read each other long, dull papers upon the history of English magic. Susanna Clarke cities long years
