Pinter Quotes

There's a tradition in British intellectual life of mocking any non-political force that gets involved in politics, especially within the sphere of the arts and the theatre. ~ Harold Pinter

Apart from the known and the unknown, what else is there? ~ Harold Pinter

But if her idiot suitors were staying at Halstead Hall with her, then by thunder, he'd be here, too. They wouldn't take advantage of her on his watch. "We're agreed that you won't do any of that foolish nonsense you mentioned, like spying on them, right?"
"Of course not. That's what I have you for."
Her private lackey to jump at her commands. He was already regretting this.
"Surely the gentlemen will accept the invitation," she went on, blithely ignoring his disgruntlement. "It's hunting season, and the estate has some excellent coveys."
"I wouldn't know."
She cast him an easy smile. "Because you generally hunt men, not grouse. And apparently you do it very well."
A compliment? From her "No need to flatter me, my lady," he said dryly. "I've already agreed to your scheme."
Her smile vanished. "Really, Mr. Pinter, sometimes you can be so..."
"Honest?" he prodded.
"Irritating." She tipped up her chin. "It will be easier to work together if you're not always so prickly."
He felt more than prickly, and for the most foolish reasons imaginable. Because he didn't like her trawling for suitors. Or using him to do it. And because he hated her "lady of the manor" role. It reminded him too forcibly of the difference in their stations.
"I am who I am, madam," he bit out, as much a reminder for himself as for her. "You knew what you were purchasing when you set out to do this."
She frowned. "Must you make it sound so sordid?"
Sabrina Jeffries

I found the offer of a knighthood something that I couldn't possibly accept. I found it to be somehow squalid, a knighthood. There's a relationship to government about knights. ~ Harold Pinter

So the first time I ever came into contact with O'Toole was at one of these very gatherings. I remember it well because I'd just punched Harold Pinter down a flight of stairs. Oh yes, I'm afraid so. No long dramatic pauses this time, Harold; he got one right on the side of the jaw. Wham! ~ Brian Blessed

I mean, if a thing works, if a thing is right, respect that, acknowledge it, respect it and hold to it. ~ Harold Pinter

Talk to each other. Never go to bed when you're angry with each other. Lady Antonia Frasier who was married to Harold Pinter said they never went to bed on an argument. ~ Elton John

If Milosevic is to be tried, he has to be tried by a proper court, an impartial, properly constituted court which has international respect. ~ Harold Pinter

Because you deserve a duke, damn it!" A troubled expression furrowed his brow. "You deserve a man who can give you the moon. I can't. I can give you a decent home in a decent part of town with decent people, but you…" His voice grew choked. "You're the most amazing woman I've ever known. It destroys me to think of what you'll have to give up to be with me."
"I told you before-I don't care!" she said hotly. "Why can't you believe me?"
He hesitated a long moment. "The truth?"
"Always."
"Because I can't imagine why you'd want me when you have men of rank and riches at your fingertips."
She gave a rueful laugh. "You grossly exaggerate my charms, but I can't complain. It's one of many things I adore about you-that you see a better version of me than I ever could." Remembering the wonderful words he'd said last night when she'd been so self-conscious, she left the bed to walk up to him. "Do you know what I see when I look at you?"
His wary gaze locked with hers. "Proper Pinter. Proud Pinter."
"Yes, but that's just who you show to the world to protect yourself." She reached up to stroke his cheek, reveling in the ragged breath that escaped him. "When you let down your guard, however, I see Jackson-who ferrets out the truth, no matter how hard. Who risks his own life to protect the weak. Who'd sacrifice anything to prevent me from having to sacrifice everything."
Catching her hand, he halted its path. "You see a saint," he said hoarsely. "I'm n ~ Sabrina Jeffries

I don't think there's been any writer like Samuel Beckett. He's unique. He was a most charming man and I used to send him my plays. ~ Harold Pinter

God makes something special and unique about each person that sets them apart from every other person, and to me that's is what artistry is about, whether you are a plumber, a pinter, a musician whatever it is that is unique about you that is translated into your art. ~ Bubba Sparxxx

Do the structures of language and the structures of reality (by which I mean what actually happens) move along parallel lines? Does reality essentially remain outside language, separate, obdurate, alien, not susceptible to description? Is an accurate and vital correspondence between what is and our perception of it impossible? Or is it that we are obliged to use language only in order to obscure and distort reality
to distort what happens
because we fear it? ~ Harold Pinter

There are some things one remembers even though they may never have happened. ~ Harold Pinter

The past is what you remember, imagine you remember, convince yourself you remember, or pretend you remember. ~ Harold Pinter

I sometimes wish desperately that I could write like someone else, be someone else. No one particularly. Just if I could put the pen down on paper and suddenly come out in a totally different way. ~ Harold Pinter

EMMA It was never intended to be the same kind of home. Was it? Pause. You didn't ever see it as a home, in any sense, did you? JERRY No, I saw it as a flat . . . you know. EMMA For fucking. JERRY No, for loving. EMMA Well, there's not much of that left, is there? Silence. JERRY I don't think we don't love each other. Pause. EMMA ~ Harold Pinter

I don't write with any audience in mind. I just write. I take a chance on the audience. That's what I did originally, and I think it's worked
in the sense that I find there is an audience. ~ Harold Pinter

Had I not done Shakespeare, Pinter, Moliere and things such as 'Godspell' - I played Judas in a hugely successful production before I did 'Elm Street' - I'd probably be on a psychiatrist's couch saying: 'Freddy ruined me.' But I'd already done 13 movies and years of non-stop theatre. ~ Robert Englund

Watching first nights, though I've seen quite a few by now, is never any better. It's a nerve-racking experience. It's not a question of whether the play goes well or badly. It's not the audience reaction, it's my reaction. I'm rather hostile toward audiences-I don't much care for large bodies of people collected together. Everyone knows that audiences vary enormously; it's a mistake to care too much about them. The thing one should be concerned with is whether the performance has expressed what one set out to express in writing the play. It sometimes does. ~ Harold Pinter

I'll tell you what I really think about politicians. The other night I watched some politicians on television talking about Vietnam. I wanted very much to burst through the screen with a flame thrower and burn their eyes out and their balls off and then inquire from them how they would assess the action from a political point of view. ~ Harold Pinter

It's so easy for propaganda to work, and dissent to be mocked. ~ Harold Pinter

Foreign, eh?" Hetty frowned. "Then I am glad Mr. Pinter is looking into his background. You have to be careful with foreigners."
"Right. I wouldn't want to rush into marriage with a stranger," Celia said tartly. "Oh, wait, yes, I would. My grandmother has dictated that I must."
Hetty stifled a smile. "Sarcasm does not become you, dear girl."
"Draconian ultimatums don't become you, Gran."
"Complain if you must, but I still mean to see you married by year's end. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

I think that NATO is itself a war criminal. ~ Harold Pinter

Looks like you've been busy," he said as he set down the pail to survey the room.
"You found water!"
"There was a stream close by." His gaze fixed on what she held in her hand. "I see you found my brandy."
Refusing to be embarrassed, she walked over to hand the flask to him. "I did indeed." She shot him a mischievous glance as he drank some. "Who would guess that the estimable Mr. Pinter, so high in the instep, drinks strong spirits?"
He scowled at her. "A little brandy on a cold day never hurt anyone. And I'm not high in the instep."
"Oh? Didn't you tell Gabe only last week that most lords were only good for redistributing funds from their estates into all the gaming hells and brothels in London, and ignoring their duty to God and country?"
When he flushed, she felt a twinge of conscience, but only a twinge. He looked so charming when he was flustered.
"I wasn't implying that your family…"
"It's all right," she said, taking pity on him. He had saved her life, after all. "You have good reason to be high in the instep. And you're not far wrong, in any case-there are many lords who are a blight upon society."
He was quiet a long moment. "I hope you realize that I don't think that of your brothers. Or your brother-in-law. They're fine men."
"Thank you."
Removing his surtout, he walked over to hang it on top of her cloak, then stood there warming his hands at the fire. "I wish I could say the same about your cousins. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

It was difficult being a conscientious objector in the 1940's, but I felt I had to stick to my guns. ~ Harold Pinter

It's very difficult to feel contempt for others when you see yourself in the mirror. ~ Harold Pinter

Well, she would marry a man who didn't need or want her fortune. Mr. Pinter didn't fall into that category.
And given how blank his expression became as his gaze met hers, she'd been right to be skeptical. he would never be interested in her in that way.
He confirmed it by saying, with his usual formality, "I doubt any man would consider your ladyship unacceptable as a wife."
Oh, when he turned all hoity-toity, she could just murder him. "Then we agree that the gentlemen in question would find me satisfactory," she said, matching his cold tone. "So I don't see why you assume they'd be unfaithful."
"Some men are unfaithful no matter how beautiful their wives are," Mr. Pinter growled.
He thought her beautiful?
There she went again, reading too much into his words. He was only making a point. "But you have no reason to believe that these gentleman would be. Unless there's some dark secret you already know about them that I do not?"
Glancing away, he muttered a curse under his breath. "No."
"Then here's your chance to find out the truth about their characters. Because I prefer facts to opinions. And I was under the impression that you do, too."
Take that, Mr. Pinter! Hoist by your own petard. The man always insisted on sticking to the facts.
And he was well aware that she'd caught him out, for he scowled, then crossed his arms over his chest. His rather impressive chest, from what she could tell beneath his black coat and plain bu ~ Sabrina Jeffries

The use of depleted uranium in the Gulf War has been particularly effective. Radiation levels in Iraq are appallingly high. Babies are born with no brain, no eyes, no genitals. Where they do have ears, mouths or rectums, all that issues from these orifices is blood.' - HAROLD PINTER A $19 trillion price tag since 1940 for past, present, and future wars reveals our addiction to war and bloodshed. ~ Philip Berrigan

There are no hard distinctions between what is real and what is unreal, nor between what is true and what is false. A thing is not necessarily either true or false; it can be both true and false. ~ Harold Pinter

The weasel under the cocktail cabinet. ~ Harold Pinter

He patted her hand. "But I will settle for an amiable wife." It was as close to making a declaration of his intentions as he'd come.
So of course Mr. Pinter chose that inopportune moment to enter the breakfast room. "And whose amiable wife are you settling for, sir?" he said in a snide tone.
His gaze dropped to the viscount's hand resting on hers, then darkened. She resisted the urge to snatch her hand free.
The viscount bristled, tightening his hand almost possessively on hers. "Do I know you, sir?"
"Not yet. The name is Jackson Pinter." He came to stand directly across the table and bent forward over it to offer his hand to Lord Basto, forcing the viscount to release her hand to take it. "Some would call me Mrs. Plumtree's 'lackey,'" he added with a side glance at Celia. "Though I work for Lord Stoneville."
She colored, remembering the conversation they'd had a few months ago, when she'd called him that. He was clearly spoiling for a fight. No doubt he was still smarting over her pulling a pistol on him last night. "Mr. Pinter does investigations of all kinds," she explained. "For money."
Mr. Pinter's slate-gray eyes bore into her. "Some of us cannot live on our family's fortune, my lady."
"While some of us are very fond of biting the hand that feeds them." If he could throw her past words at her, then she could throw back what he'd said to her months ago.
She was surprised when a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. "A hit direct, mad ~ Sabrina Jeffries

I do find it odd," she went on, "that you should care how Mr. Pinter feels about me. I thought all you wanted was to have some man marry me. He would be as good as any."
Gran winced. "Not if he is after your fortune. That is what happened to your mother, and I regret to this day that I did not see beneath your father's winning smiles and title to his mercenary motive."
Celia swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Well, since Mr. Pinter has no title and barely knows how to smile, you needn't worry. If he has a mercenary motive, he's hiding it well." She surreptitiously kicked her tucker under the table as she stepped forward. "Now, let's go have some tea, shall we?"
After another hard look about the room, Gran took the arm Celia offered and let her grandmother accompany her out the door. But while they walked down the corridor, Celia's mind kept stumbling over Gran's revelation.
A rich wife of rank would enhance his chances.
It wouldn't be the first time a man had pretended to find her fetching for his own reasons. But if Gran's suspicions about Jackson's motives proved true, it would definitely be the last. Because Celia would rather enter a loveless marriage with the Duke of Lyons than be used by Jackson Pinter. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

To my knowledge, none of them has ever taken advantage of a respectable female. Even my brothers had their...dalliances as bachelors."
"So did your father."
He would point that out. "That's different. Papa broke his marriage vows. That doesn't mean my suitors would do so." She swallowed. "Unless you think it impossible for a woman like me to keep men like them satisfied and happy?"
He started. "No! I wasn't trying to say...That is-"
"It's all right, Mr. Pinter," she said, fighting to keep the hurt out of her voice. "I know what you think of me."
His gaze locked with hers, confusing her with its sudden fierceness. "You have no idea what I think of you."
She twisted her bracelet nervously, and the motion drew his eyes down to her hands. But as his gaze came back up, it slowed, lingering on her bosom.
Could Mr. Pinter...Was it possible that he...
Certainly not! Proper Pinter would never be interested in a reckless female of her stamp. Why, he didn't even like her.
She'd dressed carefully today, hoping to sway him into doing her bidding by showing that she could look and act like a lady, hoping to gain a measure of his respect.
But the intimate way his gaze continued up past her bosom to her throat, and then paused again at her mouth, was more how her brothers looked at their wives. It wasn't so much disrespectful as it was...interested.
No, she must be imagining that. He was merely trying to make her uncomfortable; she was ~ Sabrina Jeffries

When you lead a life of scholarship you can't be bothered with the humorous realities, you know, tits, that kind of thing. ~ Harold Pinter

I can't imagine how I could help you in that regard, my lady."
The "my lady" particularly hurt. She'd thought that they'd moved past his acting like Proud Pinter, and her hurt made her peevish. "Well, you kept insisting when I hired you that there must be some suitable gentlemen out there who would marry me. So go find some, blast you. So far, all you've done is criticize the ones I found for myself."
He flashed her a small smile. "Excellent point."
"I know," she shot back.
Though now it occurred to her that his vehement protests over her choice of suitors were odd. Given his heated caresses yesterday, his behavior smacked of jealousy. So if he cared enough to be jealous of the other men, why didn't he care enough to court her himself?
I told her that there was nothing between us.
Was that just his way of soothing Grans fears and protecting his pride? Or had their encounter yesterday truly been only a dalliance?
"For a man whose task is to solve problems," she grumbled, "you create more than you solve."
"In my defense , I'm not used to matchmaking work," he pointed out.
"Clearly. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Good writing excites me, and makes life worth living. ~ Harold Pinter

There are some good rules and there are some lousy rules. ~ Harold Pinter

A short piece of work means as much to me as a long piece of work. ~ Harold Pinter

The Companion of Honour I regarded as an award from the country for 50 years of work - which I thought was okay. ~ Harold Pinter

No matter how you look at it, all the emotions connected with love are not really immortal; like all other passions in life, they are bound to fade at some point. The trick is to convert love into some lasting friendship that overcomes the fading passion. ~ Harold Pinter

Sometimes I think I have always been sitting like this. I sometimes think I have always been sitting like this, alone by an indifferent fire, curtains closed, night, winter. ~ Harold Pinter

Listen. You know what it's like when you're in a room with the light on and then suddenly the light goes out? I'll show you. It's like this.
He turns out the light.
BLACKOUT ~ Harold Pinter

How can the unknown merit reverence? ~ Harold Pinter

In Cuba I have always understood harsh treatment of dissenting voices as stemming from a "siege situation" imposed upon it from outside. And I believe that to a certain extent that is true. ~ Harold Pinter

Manton told me I was one of the first to have it."
"One of the first," Jackson emphasized. "It appears Lady Celia was the first."
She shot him a warning look. He ignored it.
"What Mr. Pinter meant to say," she said smoothly, "was that Mr. Manton probably tells all his customers that."
"That is not what I meant to say, my lady," Jackson retorted, unreasonably annoyed. "I said what I meant, and I'd thank you not to put words in my mouth."
"I'd thank you not to provoke m-" She caught herself, casting a furtive glance at her listening suitors. "Forgive me, sir. I wasn't trying to 'put words in your mouth.'"
"Of course you were." He was more than willing to draw her fire if it drove her into showing her real self. "That's why you spoke as if you could read my thoughts. Which we both know you can't." If she could, she'd know that right now he wanted nothing more than to drag her away from these curst gentlemen and kiss every inch of her.
"I say, Pinter," Gabe put in, "you're awfully argumentative today."
"The word you're looking for is 'prickly,'" Celia said, a militant glint in her eye. "Mr. Pinter doesn't like having a mere woman speaking for him."
That sparked his temper. "I don't like having anyone , man or woman, speaking for me. I daresay you feel much the same."
She colored but didn't turn away, her eyes flashing at him. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

I don't intend to simply go away and write my plays and be a good boy. I intend to remain an independent and political intelligence in my own right. ~ Harold Pinter

Writers can get very angry when an actor says, "I don't know, I don't feel very comfortable with this line." Sometimes though, you're working with a writer for whom that is simply not apt - like Harold Pinter. ~ Helen Mirren

What sound was that?
I turn away, into the shaking room.
What was that sound that came in on the dark?
What is this maze of light it leaves us in?
What is this stance we take,
To turn away and then turn back?
What did we hear?
It was the breath we took when we first met.
Listen. It is here. ~ Harold Pinter

The majority of politicians, on the evidence available to us, are interested not in truth but in power and maintenance of that power. To maintain that power it is essential that people remain in ignorance, that they live in ignorance of the truth, even the truth of their own lies. What surrounds us therefore is a vast tapestry of lies, upon which we feed. ~ Harold Pinter

Referees are the law. They have a whistle. They blow it. And that whistle is the articulation of God's justice. ~ Harold Pinter

I mean, don't forget the earth's about five thousand million years old, at least. Who can afford to live in the past? ~ Harold Pinter

Speaking of shooting, my lady," Mr. Pinter said as he came around the table, "I looked over your pistol as you requested. Everything seems to be in order."
Removing it from his coat pocket, he handed it to her, a hint of humor in his gaze. As several pair of male eyes fixed on her, she colored. To hide her embarrassment, she made a great show of examining her gun. He'd cleaned it thoroughly, which she grudgingly admitted was rather nice of him.
"What a cunning little weapon," the viscount said and reached for it. "May I?"
She handed him the pistol.
"How tiny it is," he exclaimed.
"It's a lady's pocket pistol," she told him as he examined it.
Oliver frowned at her. "When did you acquire a pocket pistol, Celia?"
"A little while ago," she said blithely.
Gabe grinned. "You may not know this, Basto, but my sister is something of a sharpshooter. I daresay she has a bigger collection of guns than Oliver."
"Not bigger," she said. "Finer perhaps, but I'm choosy about my firearms."
"She has beaten us all at some time or another at target shooting," the duke said dryly. "The lady could probably hit a fly at fifty paces."
"Don't be silly," she said with a grin. "A beetle perhaps, but not a fly." The minute the words were out of her mouth, she could have kicked herself. Females did not boast of their shooting-not if they wanted to snag husbands.
"You should come shooting with us," Oliver said. "Why not?"
The last thing she n ~ Sabrina Jeffries

If you have only one of something you can't say it's the best of anything. ~ Harold Pinter

Stan, don't let them tell you what to do! ~ Harold Pinter

Then he happened to glance at the viscount, and his blood stilled. The viscount's eyes followed Celia's every move, and his finger kept stroking his goblet as if he wanted to stroke some part of her.
Jackson gritted his teeth. No way in hell was he letting that bloody foreigner-or Devonmont, or even the duke-stroke anything of hers. "Are we going to stand around all day discussing which guns are more effective at killing," he snapped, "or are we actually going to kill something?"
Gabe exchanged a glance with his sister. "You're right. 'Prickly' is the word."
"Mr. Pinter is probably just eager to earn his kiss," Stoneville put in. "And given how the numbers stand right now, he may very well do so."
They all pivoted to look at his lordship.
Stoneville chuckled. "Devonmont has killed a pathetic eight brace of birds, Gabe a respectable fifteen, Basto an impressive seventeen and a half, Lyons an even more impressive nineteen, and Pinter an astonishing twenty brace. My sister is tied with him at twenty brace."
"Good show, Pinter!" Gabe said amiably. "You must beat her so none of us have to pay for a blasted rifle."
"Here now, Gabe," the duke cut in irritably, "I have as much chance of beating her as Pinter does. I'm only behind by one brace."
"I don't' care who beats her," Gabe said. "Just make sure one of you does, in case I can't catch up. She'll pick the most expensive gun in Manton's shop."
"You're such a pinchpenny, Gabe," Celia tea ~ Sabrina Jeffries

I hate brandy...it stinks of modern literature. ~ Harold Pinter

I no longer feel banished from myself. ~ Harold Pinter

Most of my influences from outside the commerical strange fiction genre came in with university, discovering James Joyce and Wallace Stevens, Blake and Yeats, Pinter and Borges. And meanwhile within those genres I was discovering Gibson and Shepard, Jeter and Powers, Lovecraft and Peake. ~ Hal Duncan

A writer's life is a highly vulnerable, almost naked activity. We don't have to weep about that. The writer makes his choice and is stuck with it. But it is true to say that you are open to all the winds, some of them icy indeed. You are out on your own, out on a limb. You find no shelter, no protection - unless you lie - in which case of course you have constructed your own protection and, it could be argued, become a politician. ~ Harold Pinter

In other words, you'll pretend to be someone else in order to snag a husband."
"Oh, for heaven's sake," she said defensively, "it's no different than what half the women in society do to catch a man. I don't want to waste my time in pointless flirtation when a little knowledge will improve my aim on the targets."
He flashed her a condescending smile.
"What is it?" she snapped.
"Only you would approach courtship as a marksman approaches a shooting match." He licked the tip of his pencil. "So who are these hapless targets?"
"The Earl of Devonmont, the Duke of Lyons, and Fernandez Valdez, the Viscount de Basto."
His jaw dropped. "Are you insane?"
"I know they're rather beyond my reach, but they seem to like my company-"
"I daresay they do!" He strode up to her, strangely angry. "The earl is a rakehell with a notorious reputation for trying to get beneath the skirts of every woman he meets. The duke's father was mad, and it's said to run in his family, which is why most women steer clear of him. And Basto is a Portuguese idiot who's too old for you and clearly trawling for some sweet young thing to nurse him in his declining years."
"How can you say such things? The only one you know personally is Lord Devonmont, and you barely know even him."
"I don't have to. Their reputations tell me they're utterly unacceptable."
Unacceptable? Three of the most eligible bachelors in London? Mr. Pinter was mad, not her. "Lord Devonmont is ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Iraq is just a symbol of the attitude of western democracies to the rest of the world. ~ Harold Pinter

There's always a host of voices you're inspired by. I love Don DeLillo, and I love Isaac Bashevis Singer, and I love Beckett, and I love Pinter. He's one of the funniest voices in English literature since Dickens. ~ Dylan Moran

Oh, blast, this is all so confusing!" she complained. "How is a woman supposed to figure out what a man really wants?"
"If you learn the answer to that question, do be a dear and tell the rest of us," Minerva quipped. "Though as far as I can tell, men are simple creatures, for all their posturing. They want food, drink, and a wench to bed, not necessarily in that order."
"And love?" Celia asked.
Minerva smiled. "That, too. Some men do, anyway. You'll just have to spend some time with Mr. Pinter and find out if that's what he wants from you."
"And how on earth am I supposed to spend time with him when he's been avoiding me ever since the last time we kissed?"
"Perhaps he's worried about the difference in your stations."
"That didn't keep him from kissing me." She scowled. "Besides, you've heard what he says about our sort. If anything, he thinks himself above us, not below us. He didn't even ask me to dance tonight! He could have. No one would have thought anything of that. Instead, he spent the entire ball standing about, looking disappointed, and talking to servants."
"Perhaps because you spent the entire ball in the company of your suitors."
Celia released an exasperated breath. "What else was I supposed to do? I'm not allowed to ask a man to dance. And at least I know what my suitors want. Lord Devonmont wants to seduce me, the viscount wants peace in his old age, and the duke wants to marry me. I don't have any idea what Jackson wan ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Celia realized she'd shocked Mr. Pinter when his thick black brows drew together in a frown. His lean form seemed even more rigid than usual, and his angular features-the arrow of a nose and bladed jaw-even more stark. IN his severe morning attire of black serge and white linen, he radiated male disapproval.
But why? He knew she was the only "hellion" left unmarried. Did he think she would let her brothers and sisters lose their inheritance out of some rebellious desire to thwart Gran's ultimatum?
Of course he did. He'd been so kind and considerate during her recitation of the dream that she'd almost forgotten he hated her. Why else were his eyes, gray as slate after a storm, now so cold and remote? The blasted fellow was always so condescending and sure of himself, so...so...
Male.
"Forgive me, my lady," he said in his oddly raspy voice, "but I was unaware you had any suitors."
Curse him for being right. "Well, I don't...exactly. There are men who might be interested but haven't gone so far as to offer marriage." Or even to show a partiality to her.
"And you're hoping I'll twist their arms so they will?"
She colored under his piercing gaze. "Don't be ridiculous."
This was the Mr. Pinter she knew, the one who'd called her "a reckless society miss" and a "troublemaker."
Not that she cared what he thought. He was like her brother's friends, who saw her as a tomboy because she could demonstrate a rifle's fine qualities. And like Cous ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Isn't it true that every aristocrat wants to die? ~ Harold Pinter

The Room I wrote in 1957, and I was really gratified to find that it stood up. I didn't have to change a word. ~ Harold Pinter

Why would you think there was anything more between me and Mr. Pinter?
Because you blush when his name is mentioned. Because he follows you with his eyes. Because I do not know what to make of him, and that worries me. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

When the storm is over and night falls and the moon is out in all its glory and all you're left with is the rhythm of the sea, of the waves, you know what God intended for the human race, you know what paradise is. ~ Harold Pinter

Someone else was approaching, and Jackson was none too happy about it. He hadn't seen Devonmont since the house party and wouldn't mind never seeing the man again, but since Devonmont was his new sister-in-law's cousin, that was unlikely.
As the man neared them, Celia cast Jackson an assessing glance. "You do know he never meant a thing to me."
"That makes me only slightly less inclined to smash his face in."
"Jackson!" she said laughingly. "You would never do any such thing."
"Try me." He glanced at her. "Don't let this sober façade fool you, sweeting. When it comes to you, I can be as jealous as the next man."
"Well, you have no reason." She leaned up to kiss his cheek and whisper, "You're the only man I'll ever love."
He was still reveling in that remark when Devonmont reached them. "I take it this would not be a good time for me to kiss the bride?" he drawled.
Jackson glared at him.
"That's what I thought," Devonmont said, laughing. "But seriously, Pinter, you're a very lucky man."
"How well I know it," Jackson said.
"And I say most sincerely that your wife is a very lucky woman as well."
Jackson was taken aback. "Thank you, sir," he managed.
After Devonmont nodded and walked away, Celia said, "Surely that softens you toward him a little."
"Perhaps," Jackson conceded. "Though it's a good thing Lyons isn't here. I don't think I could be civil to both in one day. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

what are you but a corpse waiting to be washed? ~ Harold Pinter

I can't believe that what anyone is at this moment saying has ever happened has never happened. Nothing has ever happened. Nothing. This is the only thing that has ever happened. ~ Harold Pinter

The crimes of the U.S. throughout the world have been systematic, constant, clinical, remorseless, and fully documented but nobody talks about them. ~ Harold Pinter

I think it is the responsibility of a citizen of any country to say what he thinks. ~ Harold Pinter

Pinter is leaving for the day?" Isaac commented. "That's a pity."
"Why?"
"Haven't you noticed how he looks at Celia sometimes? I think he might have set his sights on her."
"I thought so, too. Until just now."
"Just now?"
"He did not react exactly as I expected when I-" Oh, dear, perhaps she should not mention that. Isaac might not approve."
"Hetty?" Isaac prodded. "What mischief have you been up to now? You weren't warning him off, were you?"
The disapproval in his tone made her bristle. "And what if I was? The man is the love child of a light-heeled wench and God knows whom."
Isaac's jaw tautened. "I didn't know you were such a snob."
"I am not," she protested. "But given his circumstances, I want to be sure he is interested in Celia for something other than her fortune. I watched my daughter marry a man whom she thought loved her, only to discover that he was merely a more skillful fortune hunter than most. I do not want to make that mistake again."
He sighed. "All right. I suppose I understand your caution. But Pinter? I've never seen a less likely fortune hunter. He talks about people of rank with nothing but contempt."
"And does that not worry you? She is one of those people, after all."
"What it tells me is that he doesn't think much of marrying for rank or fortune."
She gripped his arm. "I suppose. And I must admit that when I hinted I could disinherit her if she married too low-"
"Hetty!"
"I w ~ Sabrina Jeffries

I'll bet My. Pinter knows his way around a rifle.
She scowled. He probably thought he was a grand shot, anyway. For a man whose lineage was reputedly unsavory, Mr. Pinter was so high in the instep that she privately called him Proud Pinter or Proper Pinter. He'd told Gabe last week that most lords were good for only two things-redistributing funds from their estates into the gaming hells and brothels in London, and ignoring their duty to God and country.
She knew he was working for Oliver only because he wanted the money and prestige. Secretly, he held them all in contempt. Which was probably why he was being so snide about her marrying.
"Be that as it may," she said, "I'm interested in marriage now." She strode over to the fireplace to warm her hands. "That's why I want you to investigate my potential suitors."
"Why me?"
She shot him a sideways glance. "Have you forgotten that Oliver hired you initially for that very purpose?"
His stiffening posture told her that he had. With a frown, he drew out the notebook and pencil he always seemed to keep in his pocket. "Very well. Exactly what do you want me to find out?"
Breathing easier, she left the fire. "The same thing you found out for my siblings-the truth about my potential suitors' finances, their eligibility for marriage, and...well..."
He paused in scratching his notes to arch an eyebrow at her. "Yes?"
She fiddled nervously with the gold bracelet she wore. This part, he might bal ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Rationality went down the drain donkey's years ago and hasn't been seen since. ~ Harold Pinter

Be careful how you talk about God. He's the only God we have. If you let him go he won't come back. He won't even look back over his shoulder. And then what will you do? ~ Harold Pinter

JERRY: Look at the way you're looking at me. I can't wait for you. I'm bowled over, I'm totally knocked out, you dazzle me, you jewel, my jewel, I can't ever sleep again, no, listen, it's the truth, I won't walk, I'll be a cripple, I'll descend, I'll diminish, into total paralysis, my life is in your hands, that's what you're banishing me to, a state of catatonia, do you know the state of catatonia? do you? do you? the state of ... where the reigning prince is the prince of emptiness, the prince of absence, the prince of desolation. I love you.
EMMA: My husband is at the other side of that door.
JERRY: Everyone knows. The world knows. It knows. But they'll never know, they'll never know, they're in a different world. I adore you. I'm madly in love with you. I can't believe that what anyone is at this moment saying has ever happened has ever happened. Nothing has ever happened. Nothing. Your eyes kill me. I'm lost. You're wonderful. ~ Harold Pinter

Perhaps everything was just as it appeared. Though the girl seemed to be up to something suspicious, it didn't seem to involve any deep feelings for Mr. Pinter.
Now if only she could be as sure about Mr. Pinter's feelings for Celia ... ~ Sabrina Jeffries

When Oliver called time a few moments later, she'd beaten them all. But she'd beaten Mr. Pinter by only one bird.
"It appears, Lady Celia, that you've won a new rifle," the duke said graciously.
"No," she answered. They all stared at her. "It doesn't seem sporting to win a challenge only because one of my opponents had a faulty firearm. Which we provided to him, by the way."
"Don't worry," Mr. Pinter drawled. "I won't hold the fault firearm against you and your brothers."
"That's not the point. This should be fair, and it isn't."
"Then we'll move forward," Oliver said, "and let the servants flush the grouse again. Pinter can take one more shot. That's probably all that the misfire delayed him by. If he misses, then you've won squarely. If he hits his target then it's a tie, and we'll decide a tie breaker."
"That seems fair." She glanced over at Mr. Pinter. "What do you say, sir?"
"Whatever my lady wishes." His eyes met hers in a heated glance.
She had the unsettling feeling that he referred to more than just the shooting. "Well, then," she said lightly. "Let's get on with it."
The beaters headed forward to flush the grouse, but either because of where the grouse had last settled or because of the beaters' position, the birds rose farther away than was practical.
"Damn it all," Gabe uttered. "He won't make a shot from here."
"You can ignore this one, and we'll have them flushed again," Celia said.
But Mr. Pinter raise ~ Sabrina Jeffries

The sight of the duke taking liberties had made something boil up inside Jackson that he couldn't suppress. He'd uncharacteristically acted on impulse, and already regretted it.
Because the duke now pulled back with the languid motion of all such men of high rank to fix him with a contemptuous stare. "I don't believe we've met, sir."
Jackson fought to rein in the wild emotions careening through him. Lady Celia was glaring at him, and the duke was clearly irritated. But now that Jackson had stuck his nose in this, he would see it out.
"I'm Jackson Pinter of the Bow Street Office. This lady's brother has hired me to...to..." If he said he'd been hired to investigate suitors, Lady Celia would probably murder him on the spot.
"Mr. Pinter is investigating our parents' deaths," she explained in a silky voice that didn't fool Jackson. She was furious. "And apparently he thinks that such a position allows him the right to interfere in more personal matters."
When Jackson met her hot gaze, he couldn't resist baiting her. "Your brother also hired me to protect you from fortune hunters. I'm doing my job."
Outrage filled the duke's face. "Do you know who I am?"
An imminently eligible suitor for her ladyship, damn your eyes. "A man kissing a young, innocent lady without the knowledge or permission of her family."
Lady Celia looked fit to be tied. "Mr. Pinter, this is His Grace, the Duke of Lyons. He is no fortune hunter. And this is none of your con ~ Sabrina Jeffries

My second play, The Birthday Party, I wrote in 1958 - or 1957. It was totally destroyed by the critics of the day, who called it an absolute load of rubbish. ~ Harold Pinter

Most of the press is in league with government, or with the status quo. ~ Harold Pinter

One is and is not in the centre of the maelstrom of it all. ~ Harold Pinter

Celia froze. She couldn't believe it-Proper Pinter was kissing her. Hard, boldly, with more feeling than the duke.
Good heavens.
Stung by the challenge he'd laid down, she fumbled for the pistol in her reticule, but she'd just got it in her hand when he whispered hoarsely against her lips, "Sweet God, Celia..."
He'd never called her by only her Christian name. He'd certainly never said it so...desperately. It made her hesitate with the pistol in her hand.
He took her mouth once more, and her world shifted on its axis as his kiss became wilder, more consuming. This wasn't about a challenge anymore-not when he kissed her is if her mouth held the secret to eternity. Such lovely, drugging kisses made her blood dance through her veins.
His mouth slanted over hers, and his tongue swept the seam of her lips with an urgency that made her throat ache. Remembering how Ned had kissed her, she parted her lips for him.
He went still for the briefest instant. Then with a groan, he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Ohhh, that was amazing. When Ned had done it she'd found it messy and disgusting, but Mr. Pinter's kiss was as opposite to Ned's as sun was to rain.
Slow and sensual, he dove inside with hot strokes that had her eager for more. How could this be happening to her? With him? Who could ever have guessed that the passionless Mr. Pinter could kiss so very passionately?
Scarcely aware of what she did, she slipper her free hand up to clutch his n ~ Sabrina Jeffries

I also found being called Sir rather silly. ~ Harold Pinter

If I had other choices, I would have presented them," she snapped. "But if you know of some eligible gentleman you can strong-arm into courting me, then by all means, tell me. I'm open to suggestions."
He blinked. "There has to be some fellow-"
"Right." Lifting her skirts, she headed for the door. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Pinter. I can see I'll have to pursue this on my own."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She glared at him. "That should be obvious. Since you refuse to investigate the gentlemen I've chosen, I shall have to do it myself. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

There is a temptation for an actor to editorialize what they're doing. And you can't do that with Pinter. It's almost like a musical score. His lines are so specific, but they can mean different things to different people, like an alternating current. ~ Peter Riegert

JERRY: I was best man at your wedding. I saw you in white. I watched you glide by in white.
EMMA: I wasn't in white.
JERRY: You know what should have happened?
EMMA: What?
JERRY: I should have had you, in your white, before the wedding. I should have blackened you, in your white wedding dress, blackened you in your bridal dress, before ushering you into your wedding, as your best man. ~ Harold Pinter

One way of looking at speech is to say that it is a constant stratagem to cover nakedness. ~ Harold Pinter

I know little of women. But I've heard dread tales. ~ Harold Pinter

As a writer you're holding a dog. You let the dog run about. But you finally can pull him back. Finally, I'm in control. But the great excitement is to see what happens if you let the whole thing go. And the dog or the character really runs about, bites everyone in sight, jumps up trees, falls into lakes, gets wet, and you let that happen. That's the excitement of writing plays-to allow the thing to be free but still hold the final leash. ~ Harold Pinter

The more acute the experience, the less articulate its expression. ~ Harold Pinter

You wouldn't understand my works. You wouldn't have the faintest idea of what they were about. You wouldn't appreciate the points of reference. You're way behind. All of you. There's no point in sending you my works. You'd be lost. It's nothing to do with a question of intelligence. It's a way of being able to look at the world. It's a question of how far you can operate on things and not in things. I mean it's a question of your capacity to ally the two, to relate the two, to balance the two. To see, to be able to see! I'm the one who can see. That's why I can write my critical works. Might do you good ... have a look at them ... see how certain people can view ... things ... how certain people can maintain ... intellectual equilibrium. Intellectual equilibrium. You're just objects. You just ... move about. I can observe it. I can see what you do. It's the same as I do. But you're lost in it. You won't get me being ... I won't be lost in it. ~ Harold Pinter

You and I both know that Lord Stoneville sees me only as a means to an end."
"That's not true," Freddy said earnestly. "I've seen how he looks at you. It's how I look at the last bit of bacon on the serving plate. He likes you."
"Don't be absurd."
"And you like him, too."
She let out a shuddering breath. "I like Nathan."
"But if Mr. Pinter doesn't find Nathan-"
"Then we'll go home and hope Nathan doesn't take too long in returning."
"You could marry Lord Stoneville," Freddy said. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Oliver had been kind to her in many respects. He'd kept his word and hired Mr. Pinter. He'd offered to buy her gowns, and he'd treated Freddy with more indulgence than could be expected of any man.
But his actions in the carriage hadn't been a kindness. Because now she knew exactly what she'd be missing if she married Nathan and settled for his mild kisses.
As she went about the shop selecting gowns, she told herself that maybe passion could develop between two people over time. Maybe once she was married to Nathan, it would come out all right in the end.
Deep inside, however, in the naughty part of her that had reveled in Oliver's fervent kisses, she knew she was lying to herself. Because right now, the only man she ever wanted to kiss again was Oliver. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

All that happens is that the destruction of human beings - unless they're Americans - is called collateral damage. ~ Harold Pinter

I could be a bit of a pain in the arse. Since I've come out of my cancer, I must say I intend to be even more of a pain in the arse. ~ Harold Pinter

Occasionally it does hit me, the words on a page. And I still love doing that, as I have for the last 60 years. ~ Harold Pinter

She planted her hands on her hips. "And what if I bag the most birds?"
"Then you get to shoot whomever you wish," Mr. Pinter drawled.
As the others laughed, Celia glared at him. He was certainly enjoying himself, the wretch. "I'd be careful if I were you, Mr. Pinter. That person would most likely be you."
"Oho, man, you've really got her dander up this time," Gabe exclaimed. "What on earth did you do?"
Mr. Pinter's gaze met hers, glinting with unholy amusement. "I confiscated her pistol."
A Gabe gasped, Oliver shook his head. "You'll learn soon enough-never take away one of Celia's guns. Not if you want to live."
"I'm not that bad," Celia grumbled as the duke and the viscount eyed her with a twinge of alarm, though Lord Devonmont's grin broadened. "I've never shot a person in my life."
"There's always a first time," Gabe teased.
"Oh, for pity's sake." She regarded them all stoutly. "I promise not to shoot any of you. How about this? If I win, you gentlemen owe me a rifle. Between the five of you, I'm sure you can afford a decent one."
"Five?" Mr. Pinter said. "Don't I get a part in this little game?"
She stared him down. "I thought you had certain duties to attend to." He should be investigating her suitors.
"Whatever duties he has for me will keep, Celia," Oliver said. "Do come with us, Pinter. I want to see how well you handle a fowling piece."
Mr. Pinter smiled at her. "I'd be honored, my lord. As long as her lady ~ Sabrina Jeffries