Colin Cotterill Quotes

Sarcasm," he said, "is like throwing a stick at your enemy when you've run out of bullets." Siri

There was a Lao proverb that called teachers the engineers of the soul

A hero without faults is like an omelet without little bits of eggshell in it.

A good communist," the man had said, "does not let go of the plough halfway across the paddy and leave the buffalo to find its own direction. He eats with her, tends to her injuries, and sleeps with her until the job is done." Siri had resisted the temptation to spread the word that the Party was advocating bestiality.

IT WAS LIKE RIDING INTO THE BLAST OF A HAIR-DRYER SET ON HOT.

I don't know. On my last junket I was caught in the middle of a massacre. The one before that I was tortured and left for dead. Joy and recreation seem to have escaped me somehow.

There was nothing fake or added about him. He was all himself.

As Siri walked along that oh-so-noisy riverbank on his way to work, he saw a pelican gliding above the surface of the water. It was a marvelous bird, proud and resourceful, and he imagined how it would taste with a little chili paste and fresh yams. Hungry people made poor environmentalists.

Like you, I grew up in a remote animist village. But then I went to a strict Catholic education in France. I was perfectly content to accept the grand Shee Yee of the Otherworld and the Lord B, and Jesus and his mother as my spiritual icons as long as I didn't have to spend too long on my knees. I would have settled for a committee. I just wanted order. But once I started to see my own ghosts I understood what these religions were all about. They were clubs set up by people like me to stop themselves from going mad. You know what I really think happens? You die. You wait for your number. There's a bit of time to take care of unfinished business. And you pass on. And, as you don't come back, nobody actually knows what you pass on to. But that description has never been acceptable. People want an ending. They don't want to vanish into thin air. So these great religious gurus made some endings up. The more comfortable and happy your ending, the more members signed up and paid their fees. And the kings and emperors started to add rules and regulations to subjugate the commoners and keep them in line. As so they invented hell and told you if you coveted your neighbor's mule you wouldn't even get into the clubhouse at the end of it all.

He never tired of watching her breathe. Every night spent beside her was an honour.

Chom. Don't you have an urge to see justice done?" "It's not nearly as strong as my urge to reach forty with a complete set of limbs.

Forget the planet, save the garden.

This skin, this hair, all this outside stuff. It isn't me. It's just my package. It's like the wrapper around the sweet; it isn't the sweet itself. What we really are is all inside the package. All our feelings. All our good moods and bad moods. All our ideas, our cleverness, our love, that's what a person really is.

Their version of rock-paper-scissors was elephant - fist, mouse - palm, and ant - little finger. The elephant crushed the mouse, the mouse squashed the ant, and the ant crawled up the elephant's trunk and paralyzed his brain.

Old man," she said. "Don't you want to prepare or something?"
"Prepare what?"
"Yourself. For death."
Siri laughed.
"Well, Bpoo. Let's see. If the Buddhists are right, I'm just on my way to the next incarnation. Unless there's a manual for how to behave correctly as a gnat I'm not sure how I'd prepare for that. If the Catholics are right, nothing short of an asbestos suit and a glass of iced water will help where I'm going. And if the communists are right, you do your best and when you're gone they put up a statue in your honor and the locals dry their laundry on it. So, if I'm going, you're the heir to today's legacy.

The least urgent souls on earth with a thousand obstacles and superstitions to interfere with the accomplishment of work.

So, there it was in a nutshell. Poverty led him to religion, religion to education, education to lust, lust to communism. And Communism had brought him back full circle to poverty.

Encounters with the living always drained him more than those with the dead.

Do you suppose it all means something?
That we're being left clues?
Perhaps.
Then, no offense, but I fear they've badly overestimated us.

Honesty can be a dirty gift.

It takes it out of you, writing with heart. And it was just for me really. Sort of a confirmation to myself that my inner diva can still make love to the keyboard when she's in the mood. I have to keep her roped and gagged when I'm writing for the newspapers. They don't like her at all. They don't want love. They want a quick tryst in a motel room that's forgotten in a few hours.

If nothing else, my analysis of George W.'s oratory style had taught me that a sincere countenance and a confident stance were sufficient to distract your audience from the fact that you were talking rubbish.

Concentrate on the small things and do them well.

the overriding thought in my mind is that I didn't have the foresight to say goodbye or thank you to the people I love. That sounds corny, I know, but what's wrong with corny? It has its place.

Yes, Siri. A dedicated socialist plunges headfirst into the troubled waters without testing the depth." "Isn't he likely to bump his head on the bottom?" Siri asked.

He often talked to himself when he was overwhelmed with fear. He saw it as a more dignified reaction than wetting himself. And

Socialism had somehow made time more flexible. There were often situations when 1 PM and 5 PM were interchangeable.

I'm sure he doesn't see it as aimless. We all have different goals. His are achievable.