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Dramatic Quotes

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Dramatic Quotes

“My bad, Colonel. What do you need?” “I want to report a homicide.” I raised an eyebrow. “Homicide? Did you kill someone?” His eyes narrowed at my poor attempt at levity. “Me. I’m the one who was killed.” “Colonel, Sir, with all due respect, I really don’t have time for this kind of humor.””

“Just a moment Mrs. Olmsted, Ma’am. I haven’t finished yet. I need to ask you a couple more questions.” She turned back to face the detective, her tears subsiding. “Could you tell me where you’ve been for the last several hours?” “Where I’ve been?” “Yes, Ma’am.” “My husband is lying here dead, and you have the audacity to ask me where I’ve been?”

“I saw a man on Westminster bridge,” she yelled through chattering teeth. “He had a rope and untied the last knot, looking straight at us. You never undo the last knot of three. Weather magic,” she added, with a glance at the skeptical Mr. Jeffreys. He put his head in his hands. “A terrible thing,” continued Caroline, yelling at Mary. “At Holywell they are doing reverse spells – trying to drain the energy from that hurricane in the Atlantic.”

“Mary chimed in: “The Dee of Shakespeare’s time was famous, a sorcerer with political allies all over Europe. He did horoscopes to advise the Queen about her enemies.” “Thanks to the little runt sounding off to the press, I’m well aware of Dr John Dee,” snarled Robbin’ Robin. “Did you know our Billy Dee says he can conjure spirits from the Parliaments as far back as his namesake in the 1560s? That’s how the PM won the damn election. Dead politicians popped up at Dee’s command. They begged my colleagues to vote for my rival ‘to save the nation’.” Robbin’ Robin did the air quotes that so irritated Mary.”

“Kowkosvki? You handling this?” “I am.” The suit turned and stared at me with his dark eyes. “Detective Hayden. I take it you’re the shooter?” “I am.” “And you are?” “Jack Ludefance. I’m a PI hired by Mr. Kingsley to investigate the murder of Professor Zambear.” “Oh, yeah, I heard about you. Who’s in the bedroom?” “Rudy Orkut. My computer tech.” “Computer tech, huh? Any idea who this dead body is?” “Not a clue.”

“Counselor, you can come along, but I prefer to interview Stella alone.” “Let’s just say I’ll think about that.” “Is there a legal precedence that you feel you need to be there?” “No, no legal precedence. Just looking out for my client.” “Stella is now my client, as well. I don’t take any of my cases lightly. I’ve been hired to find the murderer and that’s what I intend to do. Stella is the starting point, and her interview is pivotal. If you are in the interview room with us, she may not divulge information that could be crucial to my going further. I hope you can understand my position in this.”

“I will probably be repeating some of the facts, but no matter. Stella Kingsley Zambear’s husband, Professor Pachua Zambear, was found by one of his students on May 8 at 9 AM when she arrived for her appointment with him. I won’t go into the details of how she found him, as I’m sure Mr. Kingsley filled you in on those details.” “Yes, he did. And I understand that Mrs. Zambear was arrested because her DNA was identified?” “Correct. Positive DNA and motive. Theirs was not the happiest of marriages for many reasons. And as you are well aware, the spouse is always the first to be suspected.”

“The joey, large-eyed and gangly in the way of almost all young animals, frisked about. He – she – it (Saskia couldn’t tell what sex) batted its front paws at its mother – who straightened from her feeding with a look of resigned patience to fend off the tiny fists before reaching out and enfolding the youngster in her arms. The joey melted into her embrace, touching its nose against her mouth. Saskia took several photos, letting out a small “oooh!” at the cuteness of the interaction. The youngster hopped away and leapt into the air with twists that could be for no other reason than the joy of doing them. Suddenly, it returned to the doe and, once again, interrupted her grazing by thrusting its head into her pouch.”

“George’s utterance of the nest and the trap belonged to a bigger mystery she did not yet understand. One day I will, she promised herself. She would stake her life that those last words from her son would be solved by her. They were steppingstones into… whatever the wind and the stars and the valiant trees held for her.”

“When I hit thirty, he brought me a cake, three layers of icing, home-made, a candle for each stone in weight. The icing was white but the letters were pink, they said, EAT ME. And I ate, did what I was told. Didn’t even taste it. Then he asked me to get up and walk round the bed so he could watch my broad belly wobble, hips judder like a juggernaut. The bigger the better, he’d say, I like big girls, soft girls, girls I can burrow inside with multiple chins, masses of cellulite. I was his Jacuzzi. But he was my cook, my only pleasure the rush of fast food, his pleasure, to watch me swell like forbidden fruit. His breadfruit. His desert island after shipwreck. Or a beached whale on a king-sized bed craving a wave. I was a tidal wave of flesh. too fat to leave, too fat to buy a pint of full-fat milk, too fat to use fat as an emotional shield, too fat to be called chubby, cuddly, big-built. The day I hit thirty-nine, I allowed him to stroke my globe of a cheek. His flesh, my flesh flowed. He said, Open wide, poured olive oil down my throat. Soon you’ll be forty… he whispered, and how could I not roll over on top. I rolled and he drowned in my flesh. I drowned his dying sentence out. I left him there for six hours that felt like a week. His mouth slightly open, his eyes bulging with greed. There was nothing else left in the house to eat.”

“What I inherited from my father is the need to drink. But not regular alcohol of course. I developed a taste for a very special wine called hatred." Jarley takes his glass of wine as he explains. "It's a bitter wine. So bitter in fact, that the uninitiated will spit it out or feel physically ill from drinking it. But some who partake in it will find little nuances to the flavor. The tangy aftertaste of indulging in violent fantasies against the object of your hatred." He shakes the glass as he speaks. "The warm buzzed feeling from acts of spite and violence towards what you hate." He savors the smell of the wine. "It keeps getting more noticeable the more you drink. You keep going and going, drinking and drinking, you pick apart all the layers of taste until you finally find it." He takes a sip. "There's a hint of sweetness in the wine. You've found a sort of warm joy and comfort in the compulsion to detest the object of your hatred. Once that happens, there's no going back. You'll be hooked on the drink for life.”

“You realize, of course, the Omegans nearly lost this Earth. They had everything yet let it disintegrate through their rampant carelessness. Two hundred years past they possessed the rudimentary beginnings of the NET to bring them together. They called it the Internet. Yet they treated it like a toy, tribalized themselves, and thus nearly lost the planet. “Nationalist wars, self serving ideologies, competing religions . . . more significant, though not to the Omegans, was climate change itself, which mattered more than any petty dogma, but they ignored it until too late. It has ultimately determined our lives, managed now by the CORPORATE, using the only possible tools to survive. There were billions of Humans then. There is now but a fraction of that: some 300 million we know in the MEGS and, of course, the uncounted MASSes.”

“A smile is the best way to get oneself out of a tight spot, even if it is a fake one. Surprisingly enough, everyone takes it at face value. I read that in a book." "If you keep staring at me, I'll hit you." "I only became part of your team recently when I replaced Sasuke, so I don't know everything that's going on. I don't really understand people either. But even I can tell that Naruto really loves you. Naruto's been shouldering that promise for a long time...I think he means to shoulder it for the rest of his life. I don't know what you said to him, but it's just like what's been done to me - it feels like a curse. Sasuke causes Naruto pain, but I think you do too." "Sasuke is only helping spread his darkness across the world. Letting him live will only sow the seeds of another war. He's just another criminal now. Sasuke lost all hope of coming back when his group, Akatsuki, attacked our village. Your fellow Konoha shinobi would never accept him now. Sakura's not stupid, either. She understands the position he's put us all in. That's why she came out here, to tell you herself.”

“Margeaux? Everything okay?” All I could hear was her crying on the other end. “Margeaux? Talk to me. What’s going on?” “It’s…It’s Deloris! Jack, she came down with the virus several days ago. It turned serious very quickly. I called for an ambulance, but they wouldn’t even let me go to the hospital with her.”