Quotes

"There seems to me to be absolutely no limit to the inanity and credulity of the human race. Homo Sapiens! Homo idioticus!" ~ The Land of Mist by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle What was it? They could not tell themselves. They only knew that the black shadows at the top of the staircase had thickened, had coalesced, had taken a definite, batlike shape. ~ The Land of Mist by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle It was certainly a depressing place, with a huge, gambrel roof which came down over the upper windows and nearly obscured them. There was a half-moon, and by its light they could see that the garden was a tangle of scraggy, winter vegetation, which had, in some places, almost overgrown the path. It was all very still, very gloomy and very ominous. ~ The Land of Mist by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle "Just as an octopus may have his den in some ocean cave, and come floating out a silent image of horror to attack a swimmer, so I picture such a spirit lurking in the dark of the house which he curses by his presence, and ready to float out upon all whom he can injure." ~ The Land of Mist by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Science explained people, but could not understand them. After long centuries among the bones and muscles it might be advancing to knowledge of the nerves, but this would never give understanding. ~ Howards End by E. M. Forster The cook was a good cook, as cooks go; and as cooks go she went. ~ Reginald by Saki "The young have aspirations that never come to pass, the old have reminiscences of what never happened. It's only the middle-aged who are really conscious of their limitations--that is why one should be so patient with them." ~ Reginald by Saki But yet I am firmly persuaded that a great deal of consciousness, every sort of consciousness, in fact, is a disease. ~ Notes from the Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky Man is sometimes extraordinarily, passionately, in love with suffering. ~ Notes from the Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky There are houses whose souls have passed into the limbo of Time, leaving their bodies in the limbo of London. ~ The Forsyte Saga by John Galsworthy