Moonstone Quotes

I was about 12 when I first encountered 'The Moonstone' - or a Classics Illustrated version of it - digging through an old trunk in my grandfather's house on a rainy Bengali afternoon. ~ Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni

I hope I take up the cause of all oppressed people rather warmly. ~ Wilkie Collins

Here follows the substance of what I said, written out entirely for your benefit. Pay attention to it, or you will be all abroad, when we get deeper into the story. Clear your mind of the children, or the dinner, or the new bonnet, or what not. Try if you can't forget politics, horses, prices in the city and grievances at the club. I hope you won't take this freedom on my part amiss; it's only a way I have of appealing to a gentle reader. Lord! haven't I seen you with the greatest authors in your hands, and don't I know how ready your attention is to wander when it's a book that asks for it, instead of a person? ~ Wilkie Collins

The detective story, as created by Poe, is something as specialised and as intellectual as a chess problem, whereas the best English detective fiction has relied less on the beauty of the mathematical problem and much more on the intangible human element. [ ... ] In The Moonstone the mystery is finally solved, not altogether by human ingenuity, but largely by accident. Since Collins, the best heroes of English detective fiction have been, like Sergeant Cuff, fallible. ~ T. S. Eliot

You must go back to bed."
"No," I shouted. "Not yet! I have to finish this game." I couldn't leave Andrew, not now, not when I was finally winning.
Hannah released me so suddenly I staggered backward. "I'll fetch Papa!" she cried.
Andrew threw himself at her. "Hannah, stop, you're ruining everything!"
I grabbed his arm. "Let her go. We don't have much time!"
Casting a last terrified look at me, Hannah ran downstairs, calling for Mama and Papa.
Andrew turned to me, his face streaked with tears. "Quick, Drew. Shoot four more marbles out of the ring!"
Holding my breath I aimed. Click, click, click. An immie, a cat's-eye, and a moonstone spun across the floor, but I missed the fourth.
Andrew knuckled down and shot at the scattered marbles. Of the seven in the ring, he managed to hit two before he missed.
Downstairs I heard Hannah pounding on Papa and Mama's door.
"One more, Drew," Andrew whispered.
It was hard to aim carefully. Papa and Mama were awake. Their voices rose as Hannah tried to explain I was in the attic acting as if I'd lost my mind. My hand shook and the first marble I hit merely clicked against another.
Andrew took his turn, hit three, and missed the fourth. "Send me home, Drew," he begged. "I don't care if I die when I get there."
Two marbles were left--a carnelian and an immie, widely separated. Neither was close to my aggie. Even for someone as good as Andrew, it was a hard shot.
Holding his b ~ Mary Downing Hahn

Mrs. Kronborg was a strange woman. That word "talent", which no one else in Moonstone, not even Dr. Archie, would have understood, she comprehended perfectly. To any other woman there, it would have meant that a child must have her hair curled every day and must play in public. Mrs. Kronborg knew it meant that Thea must practice four hours a day. A child with talent must be kept at the piano, just as a child with measles must be kept under the blankets. ~ Willa Cather

If you should walk and wind and wander far enough on one of those afternoons in April when smoke goes down instead of up, and nearby things sound far away and far things near, you are more than likely to come at last to the enchanted forest that lies between the Moonstone Mines and Centaurs Mountain. You'll know the woods when you are still a long way off by virtue of a fragrance you can never quite forget and never quite remember. ~ James Thurber

If he was right, here was our quiet English house suddenly invaded by a devilish Indian Diamond - bringing after it a conspiracy of living rogues, set loose on us by the vengeance of a dead man. ~ Wilkie Collins

It is an Englishman who turns out to be the real villain of 'The Moonstone.' By contrast, the three Indian priests who dedicate their lives to returning the jewel to its proper home in the temple, though they have nothing personal to gain by doing so, are positively heroic. ~ Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni

'The Moonstone' was all I could have hoped for. A mysterious, cursed jewel, wrested from India, only to be stolen later from a great British mansion. Enigmatic, dangerous priests who follow it across the ocean in hopes of wresting it back. ~ Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni

I smelled jasmine first-then saw stars. A sea of stars flickering beyond glowing pillars of moonstone that framed the sweeping view of endless snowcapped mountains.
"Welcome to the Night Court. ~ Sarah J. Maas

Last year's leaves exploded into rustling traitors under Haydn's boots. Branches clawed at his cloak and he ducked, swiping away pale gray webs of moss. Gorawen's fingers were wrapped around his left hand. A moonstone gleamed from his right. The dim light barely lifted the shadows as Haydn tucked the stone beside a log. Another flash of soaked moonbeams lurked on the edge of his sight. Half-covered, they'd not reveal their path to those following while marking a clear trail for his and Gorawen's return and keep their own direction sure. ~ Hope Ann

Did you fall asleep?"
"No. I couldn't sleep that night."
"You were restless?"
"I was thinking of you."
The answer almost unmanned me. Something in the tone, even more than in the words, went straight to my heart. It was only after pausing a little first that I was able to go on. ~ Wilkie Collins

Cloud steamed from its scales - scales of moonstone, so bright they seemed to glow from within. A crust of gem-like droplets glistened on each one. Each eye was a burning star, and each horn was quicksilver, agleam under the pallid moon. ~ Samantha Shannon

Firestar, what's wrong?" Firestar shook his head to clear it of apprehension. It was a relief to go right back to the beginning, and tell Cinderpelt about the dream that had come to him as he lay beside the Moonstone. Cinderpelt sat beside him and listened in silence, her steady gaze never leaving his face. "Bluestar told me, 'Four will become two. Lion and tiger will meet in battle, and blood will rule the forest,'" Firestar finished. "And then blood oozed out of the hill of bones and started to fill the hollow. Blood everywhere . . . Cinderpelt, what does it all mean?" "I don't know," Cinderpelt confessed. "StarClan has not shown me any of this. Just as they have the power to show me what will happen, so they can choose not to share with me. I'm sorry, Firestar - but I'll keep thinking about it, and maybe something will happen to make it clearer soon." She pushed her nose against Firestar's fur to comfort him, but though Firestar was grateful for her ~ Erin Hunter

Marooned by all but one of his new disciples, the busker complete his act unfazed. The perfumed air seems to be replaced by a faint electrical smell like ozone after a lightning strike. When the man becomes a sterling tableau in the setting sun, Leah stares into his unblinking moonstone eye. ~ Laura Treacy Bentley

I never paid you a compliment, Rachel, in my life. Successful love may sometimes use the language of flattery, I admit. But hopeless love, dearest, always speaks the truth. ~ Wilkie Collins

I had a blast writing the Ranger in 'The Great Dinosaur Rush' for the Moonstone collection. The story turned out to be twice as long as it was supposed to be, but I was having fun. I even showed the Ranger in his 'old prospector' disguise, and I had some nice exchanges between the Ranger and Tonto. ~ Mel Odom

Sir Ector looked into the fire, fidgeting with something in his pocket.
"I have something for you," he said at last. "It was your mother's." And he drew out the thing in his pocket and held it up to her.
The ring Blanche took from him was antique silver, cabochon-set with a glimmering moonstone. Her mother's ring! Blanche folded it into her hand and held tightly to the only thing her parents had left her. ~ Suzannah Rowntree

There was something about him that had always rubbed her the wrong way. Before her mother's death, she [Shiara] could remember her saying that he was a nice enough young man, but not the one for her daughter. ~ J.C. Morrows