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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.

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
Silence
Cats
Though
Peculiar
Half
Fifty
Individual
Cat
Another
Silent
Thing
Hundred
Like
Room
Piled
Rooms
Silences

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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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What nobility of feeling! To sacrifice your own pleasure to preserve the comfort of others! It is a thing, I confess, that would never occur to me.
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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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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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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.
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Mr. Robinson was a polished sort of person. He was so clean and healthy and pleased about everything that he positively shone - which is only to be expected in a fairy or an angel, but is somewhat disconcerting in an attorney.
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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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He smiles but rarely and watches other men to see when they laugh and then does the same.
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I have a scholar's love of silence and solitude. To sit and pass hour after hour in idle chatter with a roomful of strangers is to me the worst sort of torment.
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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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Sing like no one is listening. Love like you’ve never been hurt. Dance like nobody’s watching, and live like it’s heaven on earth.
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After two hours it stopped raining and in the same moment the spell broke, which Peroquet and the Admiral and Captain Jumeau knew by a curious twist of their senses, as if they had tasted a string quartet, or been, for a moment, deafened by the sight of colour blue.
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There is nothing in the world so easy to explain as failure - it is, after all, what everybody does all the time.
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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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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.
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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!
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Unfortunately, Childermass's French was so strongly accented by his native Yorkshire that Minervois did not understand and asked Strange if Childermass was Dutch.
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Lovers are rarely the most rational beings in creation.
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Well, I suppose one ought not to employ a magician and then complain that he does not behave like other people.
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