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If anyone else asked that question, O He Who Is Terrible and Great, I would have said they were an ignorant fool in you it is a sign of the disarming simplicity which is the fount of all virtue.

Jonathan Stroud

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Jonathan Stroud
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: October 27
Novelist
Writer
Jonathan Anthony Stroud
Else
Sign
Great
Ridiculous
Would
Asked
Fool
Terrible
Fount
Question
Disarming
Virtue
Simplicity
Anyone
Ignorant

More quotes by Jonathan Stroud

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Besides, if you're going to die horribly, you might as well do it with style.
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That's a gesture of endearment in some cultures. Some hug, some kiss, some set each other on fire in small patches of woodland
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He was transfixed at the sight of the lords and ladies of his realm running about like demented chickens.
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What is a gathering without unseemly drunkenness?
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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.
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What was it that drew you back? My marvellous personality, I suppose? Or my sparkling conversation?
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Me, I was still in the pygmy hippo in a skirt, singing lusty songs about Solomon's private life and a giant stone back and forth through the air as I climbed out of the quarry at the edge of the site.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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So I departed, leaving behind a pungent smell of brimstone. Just something to remember me by.
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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.
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That's usuаllу hоw thеу start, thе young оnеs. Meaningless waffle.
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Then again, Solomon was human. And that meant he was flawed (Go on, take a look at yourself in the mirror. A good long look, if you can bear it. See? Flawed's putting it mildly, isn't it?)
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Zealots: Wild eyed persons afflicted with incurable certainty about the workings of the world, a certainty that can lead to violence when the world doesn't fit.
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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.
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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.
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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-
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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).
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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.
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