Quote

Hey, we've all got problems, chum. I'm overly talkative. You look like a field of buttercups in a suit.

Jonathan Stroud

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Jonathan Stroud
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: October 27
Novelist
Writer
Jonathan Anthony Stroud
Look
Overly
Looks
Suit
Like
Hey
Suits
Field
Buttercups
Fields
Chum
Problems
Buttercup
Problem
Talkative

More quotes by Jonathan Stroud

Image
The Hermit was known to be pretty sniffy about disciples who returned in failure. There was a wall of the institute layered with their skins- an ingenious display that encouraged vigor in his students, as well as nicely keeping out the drafts.
Jonathan Stroud
Image
listen, a goad's anything that provokes or incites an enemy --- let me have a go: cursed deamon! you have met your end! the shivering fire awaits you! i shall spread your vile essance across this hall like... um, like margarine, a very think layer of it... --- ye-es... im not sure he'll pick up on that analogy. never mind, keep going.
Jonathan Stroud
Image
When I was young, I kept a diary for about 10 years and I had to write in it every day. Even on days when nothing seemed to happen, I made myself think of something to put in it.
Jonathan Stroud
Image
That's usuаllу hоw thеу start, thе young оnеs. Meaningless waffle.
Jonathan Stroud
Image
Oh, the boots were on the other eight feet now.
Jonathan Stroud
Image
I read a bit of the Icelandic sagas. They're fascinating in that they are completely ordinary. The farmer will go off into the hills and fight a troll, and then go back and do ordinary things. It's an odd mix of fantasy and reality.
Jonathan Stroud
Image
What is a gathering without unseemly drunkenness?
Jonathan Stroud
Image
Haven't you done enough for a lifetime? Think about it - two power - crazed magicians killed, a hundred power - crazed magicians saved.
Jonathan Stroud
Image
According to some, heroic deaths are admirable things. I've never been convinced by this argument, mainly because, no matter how cool, stylish, composed, unflappable, manly, or defiant you are, at the end of the day you're also dead. Which is a little too permanent for my liking.
Jonathan Stroud
Image
When I write something that would have made me laugh as a 10-year-old, or would have scared me or would have excited me, I know I'm onto something.
Jonathan Stroud
Image
He was a worried man (I'm stretching the term a bit here, I know. By now, in his mid to late teens, he might just about have passed for a man. When seen from behind. At a distance. On a very dark night).
Jonathan Stroud
Image
Her clarity gave her purpose and her purpose gave her clarity.
Jonathan Stroud
Image
So I departed, leaving behind a pungent smell of brimstone. Just something to remember me by.
Jonathan Stroud
Image
We communicated with pithy, rather monosyllabic thoughts: viz. Run, Jump, Where? Left, Up, Duck, ect. (This latter was an observation I made on the edge of a lake. Nathaniel unfortunately took it as a command, which resulted in our temporary immersion.) We didn't ever quite say Ug, but it was a close-run thing.
Jonathan Stroud
Image
That's a gesture of endearment in some cultures. Some hug, some kiss, some set each other on fire in small patches of woodland
Jonathan Stroud
Image
Most traditional ghost stories feature rather hapless protagonists, who have nasty things happen to them.
Jonathan Stroud
Image
The afrit batted his eyelashes with a ostentatious lack of concern. Indeed? Have you a name? A name? I cried. I have MANY names! I am Bartimaeus! I am Sakhr al-Jinni! I am N'gorso the Mighty and the Serpent of Silver Plumes! I paused dramatically. The young man looked blank. Nope never heard of you. Now if you'll just-
Jonathan Stroud
Image
There was a loud cough from the man on the stand. I replaced My Magic Mirror carefully on his tray, gave him a cheesy smile, and went my way.
Jonathan Stroud
Image
I wanted to wake you straightaway, but I knew I had to wait several hours to ensure you were safely recovered. What! How long has it been? Five minutes. I got bored.
Jonathan Stroud
Image
Jabor finally appeared at the top of the stairs, sparks of flame radiating from his body and igniting the fabric of the house around him. He caught sight of the boy, reached out his hand and stepped forward. And banged his head nicely on the low-slung attic door.
Jonathan Stroud