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Quote by Steven Magee

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Steven Magee

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“And there goes that siren again,” grumbled Mr. Clay, putting down his paper. “Just as if we haven’t got Christmas bells, or carolers, or a goose to stuff, we must have an air raid, too!” This mild tirade was so unlike Mr. Clay that everyone in the room stopped to look at him. “Oh, get along with you all,” he ordered, waving his hands. “The boys have convinced me to take the night off, and look where it’s going to land me – the Anderson shelter!” “It’s going to be a tight squeeze,” Jozef admitted with a boyish grin. “What you call cozy, yes?” put in Jedrick mischievously. Mr. Clay grunted. “Very cozy.”

ChristmasHistorical FictionWwiiBombingCarolingBomb ShelterChristmas FictionTight Quarters
Book:Through the Darkness
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“They came here on Sunday, 30th June, 1940, after bombing us two days before. They said they hadn't meant to bomb us; they mistook our tomato lorries on the pier for army trucks. How they came to think that strains the mind. They bombed us, killing some thirty men, women, and children - one among them was my cousin's boy. He had sheltered underneath his lorry when he first saw the planes dropping bombs, and it exploded and caught fire. They killed men in their lifeboats at sea. They strafed the Red Cross ambulances carrying our wounded. When no one shot back at them, they saw the British had left us undefended. They just flew in peaceably two days later and occupied us for five years.”

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Book:The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society
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“Our grief is not a cry for war. "That's how New Yorkers feel," the driver said. "They know what bombing looks like, and they know the hell it is. But outside New York, people will feel guilty because they weren't here. They'll be yelling for revenge out of guilt and ignorance. Sure, we all want to catch the criminals, but only people who weren't in New York will want to bomb another country and repeat what happened here.”

WarIgnoranceGuiltRevengeNew York CitySeptember 11BombingNew Yorker
Book:My Life on the Road
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“And a ton came down on a coloured road, And a ton came down on a gaol, And a ton came down on a freckled girl, And a ton on the black canal, And a ton came down on a hospital, And a ton on a manuscript, And a ton shot up through the dome of a church, And a ton roared down to the crypt. And a ton danced over the Thames and filled A thousand panes with stars, And the splinters leapt on the Surrey shore To the tune of a thousand scars.”

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Book:The Rhyme of the Flying Bomb
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“Of course the people in the metro didn't see a thing!...what a joke! petrified ratlets! but they'll still come out to refute me! make claims!...that nothing got bombed!...squished! powdered! that the firmament was calm, and me, I imagined the whole thing! chrysanthemums, sprays, roses! why, there's no more any such thing as sky-hooking shrapnel than there is anal ice cream! it's all in my mind! hallucinations and bullshit! what a crook! but I repeat and reassert! shrapnel and fiery lace stretched from one end of the horizon to the other! with lots of glow-worms mixed in...and dancing purple fireflies...”

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Book:Normance
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