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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

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Susanna Clarke
Age: 64
Born: 1959
Born: November 16
Author
Editor
Language Teacher
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Susanna Mary Clarke
Moments
Book
Think
Nose
Thinking
Noses
Laughed
Considered
Shall
Moment

More quotes by Susanna Clarke

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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.
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The land is all too shallow It is painted on the sky And trembles like the wind-shook rain When the Raven King passed by
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For, though the room was silent, the silence of half a hundred cats is a peculiar thing, like fifty individual silences all piled one on top of another.
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I know magicians and I know magic and I say this: all magicians lie and this one more than most.
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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.
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But, though French, she was also very brave.
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It is also true that his hair had a reddish tinge and, as everybody knows, no one with red hair can ever truly be said to be handsome.
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He smiles but rarely and watches other men to see when they laugh and then does the same.
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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.
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The governess was not much liked in the village. She was too tall, too fond of books, too grave, and, a curious thing, never smiled unless there was something to smile at.
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Lovers are rarely the most rational beings in creation.
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To be more precise it was the color of heartache.
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Ha!' said the tall man drily. 'He was in high luck. Rich old uncles who die are in shockingly short supply.
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He hardly ever spoke of magic, and when he did it was like a history lesson and no one could bear to listen to him.
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She wore a gown the color of storms, shadows, and rain and a necklace of broken promises and regrets.
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A piece of writing is like a piece of magic. You create something out of nothing.
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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.
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You've got to sing like you don't need the money. You've got to love like you'll never get hurt. You've got to dance like there's nobody watching. You've got to come from the heart, if you want it to work.
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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.
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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.
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