The Hobgoblin S Hat Quotes

Here is the most valuable thing in the whole of Moomin Valley, Groke! Do you know what has grown out of this hat? Raspberry juice and fruit trees, and the most beautiful little self-propelling clouds: the only Hobgoblin's Hat in the world! ~ Tove Jansson

How happy he must be, this Hobgoblin," exclaimed Sniff.
"He isn't a bit," replied Snufkin, "and he won't be until he finds the King's Ruby. It's almost as big as the black panther's head, and to look into it is like looking at leaping flames. The Hobgoblin has looked for the King's Ruby on all the planets including Neptune
but he hasn't found it. Just now he has gone off to the moon to search in the craters, but he hasn't much hope of success, because in his heart of hearts the Hobgoblin believes that the King's Ruby lies in the sun, where he can never go because it is too hot. ~ Tove Jansson

The first complete sentence out of my mouth was probably that line about consistency being the hobgoblin of small minds. ~ Philip Johnson

He kind of wished he had a hat. ~ James S.A. Corey

I still felt a little bit sick for needing the help of a Librarian. It was frustrating. Terribly frustrating. In fact, I don't think I can accurately - through text - show you just how frustrating it was. But because I love you, I'm going to try anyway. Let's start by randomly capitalizing letters. "We cAn SenD fOr a draGOn to cArry us," SinG saId As we burst oUt oF the stAirWeLL and ruSHED tHrough ThE roOm aBovE. "ThAT wILl taKe tOO Long," BaStiLlE saiD. "We'Ll haVe To graB a VeHiCle oFf thE STrEet," I sAid. (You know what, that's not nearly frustrating enough. I'm going to have to start adding in random punctuation marks too.) We c! RoS-Sed thrOu? gH t% he Gra## ND e ` nt < Ry > WaY at "A" de-aD Ru) n. OnC $ e oUts/ iDE, I Co* Uld sEe T ^ haT the suN wa + S nEar to s = Ett = ING - it w.O.u.l.d Onl > y bE a co@ uPle of HoU[ rs unTi ^ L the tR} e} atY RATiF ~ iCATiON ha, pPenEd. We nEeDeD!! to bE QuicK?.? UnFOrTu() nAtelY, tHE! re weRe no C? arriA-ges on tHe rOa ^ D for U/ s to cOmMan > < dEer. Not a ON ~ e ~. THerE w + eRe pe/ Ople wa | lK | Ing aBoUt, BU? t no caRr# iaGes. (Okay, you know what? That's not frustrating enough either. Let's start replacing some random vowels with the letter Q.) I lqOk-eD arO! qnD, dE# sPqrA# te, fRq? sTr/ Ated (like you, hopefully), anD aNn | qYeD. Jq! St eaR& lIer, tHqr ^ E hq.d BeeN DoZen! S of cq? RrIqgEs on The rQA! d! No-W tHqRe wA = Sn't a SqnGl + e oN ^ q. "ThE_rQ!" I eXclai $ mqd, poIntIng. Mqv = Ing do ~ Wn th_e Rqa ~ Brandon Sanderson

In Europe, anti-Americanism is much more a hobgoblin of the political, cultural, and religious elites. ~ Jean Francois Revel

[T]hat his cheating and his bitterness and his cruelty were the revolt of his will ... against a deep-rooted instinct of holiness, against a desire for God that terrified and yet obsessed him. ~ W. Somerset Maugham

Once I had finished conducting business with Herr Kassl, I went in search of my sister. Käthe was easy to find, even in this sea of faces in the square. Her smiles were the broadest, her blue eyes the brightest, her pink cheeks the rosiest. Even her hair beneath that ridiculous hat shone like a bird of golden plumage. All I had to do was follow the path traced by the eyes of the onlookers in the village, those admiring, appreciative glances that led me straight to my sister at the center.
For a moment, I watched her bargain and haggle with the sellers. Käthe was like an actress on the stage, all heightened emotion and intense passion, her gestures affected, her smiles calculated. She fluttered and flirted outrageously, carefully oblivious to the stares she drew like moths to the flame. Both men and women traced the lines of her body, the curve of her cheek, the pout of her lip.
Looking at Käthe, it was difficult to forget just how sinful our bodies were, just how prone we were to wickedness. Born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward, or so saith Job. Clothed in clinging fabrics, with every line of her body exposed, every gasp of pleasure unconcealed, everything about Käthe suggested voluptuousness. ~ S. Jae-Jones

Sunday: this satisfied procession
Of definite Sunday faces;
Bonnets, silk hats, and conscious graces
In repetition that displaces
Your mental self-possession
By this unwarranted digression.
Evening, lights, and tea!
Children and cats in the alley;
Dejection unable to rally
Against this dull conspiracy.
And Life, a little bald and gray,
Languid, fastidious, and bland,
Waits, hat and gloves in hand,
Punctilious of tie and suit
(Somewhat impatient of delay)
On the doorstep of the Absolute. ~ T. S. Eliot

Howdy, ma'am. You always talk to yourself?
Velia glanced up into bright eyes, as blue as the flame on a cigarette lighter, belonging to a man standing in front of her desk wearing a cowboy hat tipped back on his head. ~ Mary J. McCoy-Dressel

Patients, beings who want to be rehabilitated, send me questions See? I answer them real fast, 1 2 3 done Like so You get?' Toby said, his pale green fingers clattering across the keyboard.

'I think so,' I said, shifting in my chair.

'Okay hear we go First question: I just moved to a new city and there's a school next door All the kids, every last student, wear the same clothes Are they all related Is this one of those mafia families I need to be careful around You know the answer? Toby asked, swiveling to face me.

'Perhaps,' I said after thinking a moment. It took a second to distinguish when the question ended and when Toby's remarks started.

'You sure, I can check real quick 1 2 3 I check that fast,' Toby said, his words zooming out of his mouth while Google search engine popped up on his computer screen. ~ K.M. Shea

Two things a novelist can do with a hat: Talk through it or pull a rabbit from it. ~ Peter S. Prescott

A cop lost his temper and rushed into the crowd to seize an agitator ... and that was the last we saw of him for about three minutes. When he emerged, after a dozen others had rushed in to save him, he looked like some ragged hippie ... the mob had stripped him of everything except his pants, one boot, and part of his coat. His hat was gone, his gun and gunbelt, all his badges and police decorations ... he was a beaten man and his name was Lennox. I know this because I was standing beside the big plainclothes police boss who was shouting, Get Lennox in the van! ~ Hunter S. Thompson

Uh, Anna?" Stepping back from her, he poked a finger into her stomach. "What happened to you?" Anna batted his hand away, her lips tightening in a classic, hormonal mood swing. "You happened to me ... ass hat. ~ S.C. Stephens

The hobgoblin of a little mind may be the genius of a great one. ~ Hermester Barrington

HALLOWE'EN

Pixie, kobold, elf, and sprite
All are on their rounds to-night,-
In the wan moon's silver ray
Thrives their helter-skelter play.

Fond of cellar, barn,or stack,
True unto the almanac,
They present to credulous eyes
Strange hobgoblin mysteries.

Cabbage-stomps-straws wet with dew-
Apple-skins, and chestnuts too,
And a mirror for some lass,
Show what wonders come to pass.

Doors they move, and gates they hide,
Mischiefs that on moon-beams ride
Are their deeds, and, by their spells,
Love records its oracles.

Don't we all, of long ago,
By the ruddy fireplace glow,
In the kitchen and the hall,
Those queer, coofllke pranks recall?

Eery shadows were they then-
But to-night they come again;
Were we once more but sixteen,
Precious would be Halloween.
~ Joel Benton

In a straight up movie montage scene, ten things happened around me at once: someone pulled the broom from my hand, another person ripped the shirt off my head, a measuring tape appeared around my boobs, and two women crouched down in front of my legs. HEYO. "Nice tits," one assistant said as she finished measuring my chest. "Uhh, thanks," I replied as she ran in the opposite direction, having acquired the measurement she needed. "Is this your natural color?" a hairstylist asked as she ripped the hat and ponytail from my head. ~ R.S. Grey

So Big Bear dined with the Princess,
"Did you see him? You'd never have guessed!"
His party hat was like her crown,
and they talked until the sun went down.
From the winter poem, The Fairytale Princess ~ Suzy Davies

You know what I hate about you?" "My hat?" "That too," Holden said. "But mostly it's that I hate everything you say, but you're not always wrong. ~ James S.A. Corey

The regrets I have are so minor. You know, would I leave my Keith Richards hat, with the silver skull on it, on the stool at the coffee shop at LaGuardia? I wouldn't do that again. But overall, no, I don't have any regrets. ~ Hunter S. Thompson

Those that Hobgoblin call you and sweet Puck,
You do their work, and they shall have good luck:
Are not you he?'
'Thou speak'st aright;
I am that merry wanderer of the night. ~ William Shakespeare

Any concentrated mass is actually a local distortion of space itself, there happens to be exactly one surface, registered with the U.S. Patent Office, which, incorporated into a suitable hat design, will take the impact load of any known safe falling from any current altitude, transmitting to the wearer only the most trivial of resultant vectors. ~ Thomas Pynchon

Therefore Flora said, though still not without a certain boastfulness and triumph in her legacy, that Mr F.'s Aunt was 'very lively to-day, and she thought they had better go.' But Mr F.'s Aunt proved so lively as to take the suggestion in unexpected dudgeon and declare that she would not go; adding, with several injurious expressions, that if 'He'--too evidently meaning Clennam--wanted to get rid of her, 'let him chuck her out of winder;' and urgently expressing her desire to see 'Him' perform that ceremony.

In this dilemma, Mr Pancks, whose resources appeared equal to any emergency in the Patriarchal waters, slipped on his hat, slipped out at the counting-house door, and slipped in again a moment afterwards with an artificial freshness upon him, as if he had been in the country for some weeks. 'Why, bless my heart, ma'am!' said Mr Pancks, rubbing up his hair in great astonishment, 'is that you?

How do you do, ma'am? You are looking charming to-day! I am delighted to see you. Favour me with your arm, ma'am; we'll have a little walk together, you and me, if you'll honour me with your company.' And so escorted Mr F.'s Aunt down the private staircase of the counting-house with great gallantry and success.

- Little Dorrit, Charles Dickens ~ Charles Dickens

Consistency may be the hobgoblin of little minds, but law, morality and leadership demand it. Without consistency, there is privilege. ~ Paul Craig Roberts

Are you saying that was real magic?" I said. "That's crazy."
"Well, let's see. Are you telling me you just saw the past in a vision. That a monkey in a top hat was trying to murder my chief costumer and head accountant with the most powerful poison in existence using her makeup jar? If so, perhaps I'm not the crazy one here. ~ Delilah S. Dawson

Consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds. ~ Terence McKenna

When I return to that house it will be with my son in my arms. I shall have a red coat on him and red-flowered trousers and on his head a hat with a small gilded Buddha sewn on the front and on his feet tiger-faced shoes. And I will wear new shoes and a new coat of black sateen and I will go into the kitchen where I spent my days and I will go into the great hall where the Old One sits with her opium, and I will show myself and my son to all of them. ~ Pearl S. Buck

There once was a brown horse that was brown like a bean, and he lived in the home of a very poor farmer. And the poor farmer had a very poor wife, and they had a very thin chicken and a lame little pig. And so, one day the very poor farmer s wife said: We have nothing more to eat because we are very poor, so we must eat the very thin chicken. So they killed the very thin chicken and made a thin soup and ate it. And so, for a while, they were fine; but the hunger returned and the very poor farmer told his very poor wife: We have nothing more to eat because we are so poor, so we must eat the lame little pig. And so the lame little pig s turn came and they killed it and they made a lame soup and ate it. And then it was the bean-brown horse s turn. But the bean-brown horse did not wait for the story to end; it just ran away and went to another story.

Is that the end of the story? I asked Durito, unable to hide my bewilderment. Of course not. Didn't you hear me say that the bean-brown horse fled to another story? he said as he prepared to leave. And so? I ask exasperated. And so nothing you have to look for the bean-brown horse in another story! he said, adjusting his hat. But, Durito! I said, protesting uselessly. Not one more word! You tell the story like it is ~ Subcomandante Marcos

At times like these I want to remove my hat to the beauty of the natural world and its Creator. ~ David Kline

Medusa's lips split with that challenging smile, and for a second he recognized her somehow, he knew her on some primal level, the same way he'd recognized he behind the face of Brunhilde, the helmet of Achilles, or in hat ship maneuvering in space ,and then she flickered away. The simulation darkened around him. Tom pulled out his neural wire, Medusa's dangerous smile lingering in his brain. ~ S.J. Kincaid

My mother taught me to knit when I was seven. I forgot about knitting until one day I saw Marion at the counter with hers and confessed that I knew how. Confessed is the right word. In those days, in the early 1980s, knitting was not a hobby a preteen would readily admit to. But Marion, every enthusiastic, pounced upon me and insisted that I show her something I'd made. I did
a misshapen scarf
which she priased exravagantly. she lent me a raspberry-colored wool for another project, a hat for myself. Since then I've been knitting pretty continuously. It's addictive and it's soothing, and fora a few minutes anyway, it makes me feel closer to my mother. ~ Anita Shreve

I think the thing that our government lacks - just about more than anything else - is technological competence. We have some of the greatest white-hat hackers in the world here in the U.S., but the government seems to be technologically illiterate. ~ John McAfee

Now you can all have a wish
the Moomin family first!"
Moominmamma hesitated a bit. "Should it be something you can see?" she asked, "or an idea? If you know what I mean, Mr. Hobgoblin?"
"Oh, yes!" said the Hobgoblin. "Things are easier of course, but it will work with an idea too."
"Then I want to wish that Moomintroll will stop missing Snufkin," said Moominmamma.
"Oh, dear!" said Moomintroll going pink, "I didn't know it was so obvious!"
But the Hobgoblin waved his cloak once, and immediately the sadness flew out of Moomintroll's heart. His longing just became an expectancy, and that felt much better. ~ Tove Jansson

The helicopter was a U.S. Navy helicopter. There were no civilian helicopters available to film companies, so they just made some stuff out of two-by-four wood. And I would straddle a two-by-four out from the helicopter with a camera and what we call a high hat, which is a low metal stand. ~ Haskell Wexler

I fall in love with one special hat, but it happens to be on the head of the old Indian who is waiting on us. It is an old black hat, broken with white lines where it must have been crumpled and stepped on and kicked, and its brim droops like a hound's ear all along one side, but it is a wonderful hat, a magic hat. D'Artagnan wore a hat like that when he came up from Gascony, and Don Quixote wore a hat like that when he went home at last. Around the crown its owner has placed a thin silver band, as simply made as a wedding ring. They do look long-married, the old man and his black hat. ~ Peter S. Beagle

Dr. Seuss' The Cat in the Hat is a picture book meritable of every child reader, whether he or she is just a beginner, or a bit more advanced. ("Reviews by Cat Ellington: The Complete Anthology, Vol. 1," 2018) ~ Cat Ellington

U.S. foreign policy is Manichaean. It's like a Hollywood movie. You have to know who has the white hat and who has the black hat and then go against the black hat. ~ Carlos Fuentes

I'm here. Where's my chauffeur hat?" "Here, use mine," Butch said, outing a B Sox cap and throwing it over. "It'll help that hair of yours." The angel caught the thing on the fly and stared at the red S. "I'm sorry, I can't." "Do not tell me you're a Yankees fan," V drawled. "I'll have to kill you, and frankly, tonight we need all the wingmen we've got." Lassiter tossed the cap back. Whistled. Looked casual. ~ J.R. Ward

[T]hat question is like asking what color Tuesday was. It's meaningless. ~ James S.A. Corey

P.S. I will give you a clue about the person I'm interested in. She gets a very cute dimple in her right cheek when she's trying not to smile. She has a very cute way of pronouncing th, and she wears a cute hat on cold days, which is like a French beret. I once had an appointment with her to Gaze into the Girl's Eyes, which she went and cancelled on me, and I've been waiting all term for a chance to Kiss the Girl. ~ Jaclyn Moriarty

As I was leaving graduate school in 1974, I was recruited to join a fledgling SETI project at the Hat Creek Observatory in California, mainly because I knew how to program an ancient PDP8/S computer that had been donated to the project. ~ Jill Tarter

On the smooth brown hair was a hat that had been taken from its mother too young. ~ Raymond Chandler

After the raid, the neighborhood was officially repossessed by the city of Portland, and a number of the houses were razed. The plan was to set up new low-income condos for some of the municipal workers, but construction stalled after the terrorist incidents, and as I cross over into the Highlands, all I see is rubble: holes in the ground, and trees felled and left with their roots exposed to the sky, dirty, churned earth, and rusting metal signs declaring it a hard-hat area.
It's so quiet that even the sound of my wheels as they turn seems overloud. A thought comes to me suddenly, unbidden - Quiet through the grave go I; or else beneath the graves I lie - the old rhyme we used to whisper as kids when we passed a graveyard.
A graveyard: That's exactly what the Highlands is like now. ~ Lauren Oliver

Over the table, on which an unpacked line of fabric samples was all spread out
Samsa was a traveling salesman
hung the picture which he had recently cut out of a glossy magazine and lodged in a pretty gilt frame. It showed a lady done up in a fur hat and a fur boa, sitting upright and raising up against the viewer a heavy fur muff in which her whole forearm had disappeared. ~ Franz Kafka