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Quote by H. G. Wells

Work

The Time Machine

In this seminal work of science fiction, the protagonist, a Victorian inventor, constructs a time machine to travel into the future. The novel delves into the mysteries of time and the potential consequences of altering its flow, offering a thought-provoking examination of societal evolution and the nature of human progress. more

Author

H. G. Wells
H. G. Wells

H.G. Wells was a prominent English writer known for his science fiction, history, and social commentary. His most famous works include 'The Time Machine,' 'The War of the Worlds,' and 'The Invisible Man.' Born on September 21, 1866, in Bromley, Kent, England, Wells passed away on August 13, 1946. more

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“On a Tuesday night they were wed, And by Friday they were dead. And they buried them in the churchyard side by side, Oh my love, And they buried them in the churchyard side by side." Breaking away from Gideon with some reluctance, Sophie rose to her feet and dusted off her dress. "Please forgive me, my dear Mr. Lightwood- I mean Gideon- but I must go and murder the cook. I shall be directly back.”

“I was just thinking of bundling up Cecily and feeding her to the ducks at Hyde Park," said Will, pushing his wet hair back and favoring Jem with a rare smile. "I could use your assistance." "Unfortunately, you may have to delay your plans for suicide a bit longer. Gabriel Lightwood is downstairs, and I have two words for you. Two of your favorite words, at least when you put them together." "'Utter simpleton'?" inquired Will. "'Worthless upstart'?" Jem grinned. "'Demon pox,'" he said.”

“Their grandchildren had reminded Will of the song about demon pox he had taught them- when they were much too young, Tessa had always thought- and that they had all memorized. They sang it all together and out of tune, scandalizing Sophie.”

“Autumnal -- nothing to do with leaves. It is to do with a certain brownness at the edges of the day ... Brown is creeping up on us, take my word for it ... Russets and tangerine shades of old gold flushing the very outside edge of the senses... deep shining ochres, burnt umber and parchments of baked earth -- reflecting on itself and through itself, filtering the light. At such times, perhaps, coincidentally, the leaves might fall, somewhere, by repute. Yesterday was blue, like smoke.”