To Sir With Love Quotes

I remember seeing the movie 'To Sir With Love' when I was a little girl. ~ Chaka Khan

Our fellow Negro citizens could be summed up in something Tessie said after watching Sidney Poitier's performance in To Sir with Love, which opened a month before the riots. She said, You see, they can speak perfectly normal if they want. ~ Jeffrey Eugenides

I sat looking at her, completely lost for words; women say the damnedest things. ~ E.R. Braithwaite

Paranoid Android

Please could you stop the noise, I'm trying to get some rest
From all the unborn chicken voices in my head
What's that…? (I may be paranoid, but not an android)
What's that…? (I may be paranoid, but not an android)

When I am king, you will be first against the wall
With your opinion which is of no consequence at all
What's that…? (I may be paranoid, but no android)
What's that…? (I may be paranoid, but no android)

Ambition makes you look pretty ugly
Kicking and squealing gucci little piggy
You don't remember
You don't remember
Why don't you remember my name?
Off with his head, man
Off with his head, man
Why don't you remember my name?
I guess he does….

Rain down, rain down
Come on rain down on me
From a great height
From a great height… height…
Rain down, rain down
Come on rain down on me
From a great height
From a great height… height…
Rain down, rain down
Come on rain down on me

That's it, sir
You're leaving
The crackle of pigskin
The dust and the screaming
The yuppies networking
The panic, the vomit
The panic, the vomit
God loves his children, God loves his children, yeah! ~ Radiohead

My Last Duchess

That's my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now: Fra Pandolf's hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will't please you sit and look at her? I said
"Fra Pandolf" by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so, not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 'twas not
Her husband's presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess' cheek: perhaps
Fra Pandolf chanced to say "Her mantle laps
Over my lady's wrist too much," or "Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half-flush that dies along her throat": such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
A heart - how shall I say? - too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, 'twas all one! My favour at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace - all and each
Would draw from her ~ Robert Browning

Well, not the stuff they use in robotics, which I wouldn't follow, but sociological relationships I can handle. For instance, I'm familiar with the Teramin Relationship." "The what, sir?" "Maybe you have a different name for it. The differential of inconveniences suffered with privileges granted: dee eye sub jay taken to the nth - - " "What are you talking about? ~ Isaac Asimov

What are you doing?"
"Coming to pick you up in a little bit," he said. I loved it when he took charge. It made my heart skip a beat, made me feel flushed and excited and thrilled. After four years with J, I was sick and tired of the surfer mentality. Laid-back, I'd discovered, was no longer something I wanted in a man. And when it came to his affection for me, Marlboro Man was anything but that. "I'll be there at five." Yes, sir. Anything you say, sir. I'll be ready. With bells on.
I started getting ready at three. I showered, shaved, powdered, perfumed, brushed, curled, and primped for two whole hours--throwing on a light pink shirt and my favorite jeans--all in an effort to appear as if I'd simply thrown myself together at the last minute.
It worked. "Man," Marlboro Man said when I opened the door. "You look great." I couldn't focus very long on his compliment, though--I was way too distracted by the way he looked. God, he was gorgeous. At a time of year when most people are still milky white, his long days of working cattle had afforded him a beautiful, golden, late-spring tan. And his typical denim button-down shirts had been replaced by a more fitted dark gray polo, the kind of shirt that perfectly emphasizes biceps born not from working out in a gym, but from tough, gritty, hands-on labor. And his prematurely gray hair, very short, was just the icing on the cake. I could eat this man with a spoon.
"You do, too," I replied, trying to will away my spik ~ Ree Drummond

For years, every conversation she had with a man had been colored by calculation. Would she put him off is she spoke her mind? What did he want her to say? When a man took a mistress, he purchased not just the rights to her body, but the content of her thoughts. Sir Mark wanted her as she was, not as he wished her to be. The thought made her head hurt. ~ Courtney Milan

So he gives this whole presentation about the history of earth and life on it, and then at the end, he asks if there are any questions. An old woman in the back raises her hand, and says, 'That's all fine and good, Mr. Scientist, but the truth is, the earth is a flat plane resting on the back of a giant turtle.' The scientist decides to have a bit of fun with the woman and responds, 'Well, but if that's so, what is the giant turtle standing upon?' And the woman says, 'It is standing upon the shell of another giant turtle. And now the scientist is frustrated, and he says, 'Well, then what is that turtle standing upon?' And the old woman says 'Sir, you don't understand. It's turtles all the way down. ~ John Green

But as she rounded the last turn before the hall landing, she nearly collided with Sir Ian, carrying his mother's shawl.
"Oh!" Lina exclaimed, coming to an abrupt halt a step above his.
"Rather careless of you to leave this behind," he said.
He was too close.
"Aye, it was," she agreed, stepping back up a step to gain more space.
His eyes danced. "Mayhap I should demand a penance before returning it."
"You dare," she said, stiffening and wishing he were not so fiendishly beguiling with that boyish gleam of mischief in his eyes. He was definitely not just a mischievous boy anymore, though. And, for a lady to encourage such behavior . . .
He looked up, as if to heaven, and murmured, "Just one wee ki - "
"Shame on you, Sir Ian Colquhoun," she interjected, thinking she sounded just like her mother. "Galbraith cannot know that you are on this stairway."
"Once again, you are wrong, lass," he said, his eyes still alight. "He is still with Lizzie on the dais - giving her a well-deserved scolding, I trust. I saw that you had left the shawl and offered to find a maidservant to return it to you. But this is much better. I do think you should thank me prettily for taking so much trouble."
"I will thank you. After you have returned it to me."
Cocking his head, he held the shawl higher, so she'd have to reach for it.
When she did, he moved it back out of her reach.
Lina lowered her outstretched hand to her side and eyed him st ~ Amanda Scott

Sir, if you wish to have a just notion of the magnitude of this city, you must not be satisfied with seeing its great streets and squares, but must survey the innumerable little lanes and courts. It is not in the showy evolutions of buildings, but in the multiplicity of human habitations which are crowded together, that the wonderful immensity of London consists. ~ Samuel Johnson

If every person is to be banished from society who runs into debt and cannot pay - if we are to be peering into everybody's private life, speculating upon their income, and cutting them if we don't approve of their expenditure - why, what a howling wilderness and intolerable dwelling Vanity Fair would be! Every man's hand would be against his neighbor in this case, my dear sir, and the benefits of civilization would be done away with. We should be quarreling, abusing, avoiding one another. Our houses would become caverns, and we should go in rags because we cared for nobody. Rents would go down. Parties wouldn't be given any more. All the tradesmen of the town would be bankrupt. Wine, wax-lights, comestibles, rouge, crinoline-petticoats, diamonds, wigs, Louis-Quatorze gimcracks, and old china, park hacks, and splendid high-stepping carriage horses - all the delights of life, I say, - would go to the deuce, if people did but act upon their silly principles and avoid those whom they dislike and abuse.
Whereas, by a little charity and mutual forbearance, things are made to go on pleasantly enough: we may abuse a man as much as we like, and call him the greatest rascal unhanged - but do we wish to hang him therefore? No. We shake hands when we meet. If his cook is good we forgive him and go and dine with him, and we expect he will do the same by us. Thus trade flourishes - civilization advances; peace is kept; new dresses are wanted for new assemblies every week; and the las ~ William Makepeace Thackeray

Nay, but he prated, And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms Against your honor, That, with the little godliness I have, I did full hard forbear him. But, I pray you, sir, Are you fast married? Be assured of this, That the magnifico is much beloved; And hath, in his effect, a voice potential As double as the duke's: he will divorce you; Or put upon you what restraint and grievance The law, - with all his might to enforce it on, - Will give him cable. ~ William Shakespeare

When Elizabeth finally descended the stairs on her way to the dining room she was two hours late. Deliberately.
"Good heavens, you're tardy, my dear!" Sir Francis said, shoving back his chair and rushing to the doorway where Elizabeth had been standing, trying to gather her courage to do what needed to be done. "Come and meet my guests," he said, drawing her forward after a swift, disappointed look at her drab attire and severe coiffure. "We did as you suggested in your note and went ahead with supper. What kept you abovestairs so long?"
"I was at prayer," Elizabeth said, managing to look him straight in the eye.
Sir Francis recovered from his surprise in time to introduce her to the three other people at the table-two men who resembled him in age and features and two women of perhaps five and thirty who were both attired in the most shockingly revealing gowns Elizabeth had ever seen.
Elizabeth accepted a helping of cold meat to silence her protesting stomach while both women studied her with unhidden scorn. "That is a most unusual ensemble you're wearing, I must say," remarked the woman named Eloise. "Is it the custom where you come from to dress so…simply?"
Elizabeth took a dainty bite of meat. "Not really. I disapprove of too much personal adornment." She turned to Sir Francis with an innocent stare. "Gowns are expensive. I consider them a great waste of money."
Sir Francis was suddenly inclined to agree, particularly since he intended to kee ~ Judith McNaught

He hesitated a moment, shifted the load to his left arm and mimed a sword stroke in the air. Crowley looked over his shoulder at the serving boy with some concern. "Planning on beheading me, are you?" he asked. Rafe smiled at him. "No sir, Ranger. Just getting the right side, like. Just shift yourself over while I put these down, before I forget which side is which, now." Crowley ~ John Flanagan

LANCE (to the audience) Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping. All the kind of the Lances have this very fault. I have received my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going with Sir Proteus to the Imperial's court. I think Crab, my dog, be the sourest-natured dog that lives. My mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a ~ William Shakespeare

Why, not much as yet, sir, on accounts I suppose of not being able to walk much; but he goes about the Yard, and he chats without particular understanding or being understood, and he plays with the children, and he sits in the sun - he'll sit down anywhere, as if it was an arm-chair - and he'll sing, and he'll laugh!' 'Laugh! ~ Charles Dickens

What I do know, is that I refused to compromise with the system and I was obsessed with preventing my work from being manipulated for their propaganda. Even stories about the Holocaust could have been promoted as anti-fascist stories, which they were in a way, but I didn't want them to be taken only as such. I remember I had a reading in Berlin in the '80s and a man in the audience, asked me: 'Sir, I read your book, I read the stories, you didn't say who the oppressors were nor who are the people who are suffering.' And I said, 'No, I didn't.' It was important to me that a Vietnamese reader reading a story about a young boy who is in a camp, can recognize himself, without me saying: the boy is a Jew, the oppressor is a Romanian, or a Nazi, and so on. I wanted to have a more universal approach. ~ Norman Manea

The reason twenty-nine feet is such a common length for RVs, I presume, is that once a vehicle gets much longer, you need a special permit to drive it. That would mean forms and fees, possibly even background checks. But show up at any RV joint with your thigh stumps lashed to a skateboard, crazily waving your hooks-for-hands, screaming you want that twenty-nine-footer out back for a trip you ain't sayin' where, and all they want to know is: Credit or debit, tiny sir? ~ John Jeremiah Sullivan

Yes, sir, but the Librarian likes bananas, sir."
"Very nourishin' fruit, Mr Stibbons."
"Yes, sir. Although, funnily enough it's not actually a fruit, sir."
"Really?"
"Yes, sir. Botanically, it's a type of fish, sir. According to my theory it's cladistically associated with the Krullian pipefish, sir, which of course is also yellow and goes around in bunches or shoals."
"And lives in trees?"
"Well, not usually, sir. The banana is obviously exploiting a new niche."
"Good heavens, really? It's a funny thing, but I've never much liked bananas and I've always been a bit suspicious of fish, too. That'd explain it. ~ Terry Pratchett

It doesn't happen to me anymore, because a fresh generation of Africans and Asians has arisen to take over the business, but in my early years in Washington, D.C., I would often find myself in the back of a big beat-up old cab driven by an African-American veteran. I became used to the formalities of the mise-en-scène: on some hot and drowsy Dixie-like afternoon I would flag down a flaking Chevy. Behind the wheel, leaning wa-aay back and relaxed, often with a cigar stub in the corner of his mouth (and, I am not making this up, but sometimes also with a genuine porkpie hat on the back of his head) would be a grizzled man with the waist of his pants somewhere up around his armpits. I would state my desired destination. In accordance with ancient cabdriver custom, he would say nothing inresponse but simply engage the stickshift on his steering wheel and begin to cruise in a leisurely fashion. There would be a pause. Then: 'You from England?' I would always try to say something along the lines of 'Well, I'm in no position to deny it.' This occasionally got me a grin; in any case, I always knew what was coming next. 'I was there once.' 'Were you in the service?' 'I sure was.' 'Did you get to Normandy?' 'Yes, sir.' But it wasn't Normandy or combat about which they wanted to reminisce. (With real combat veterans, by the way, it almost never is.) It was England itself. 'Man did it know how to rain… and the warm beer. Nice people, though. Real nice.' I would never forget to say, as I ~ Christopher Hitchens

With a perversity of judgement, which must be attributed to his not having by Nature a very strong head, the Graces, the Spirit, the Sagacity, and the Perseverance, of the Villain of the Story outweighed all his absurdities and all his Atrocities with Sir Edward. With him, such Conduct was Genius, Fire and Feeling. It interested and inflamed him; and he was always more anxious for its Success and mourned over its Discomfitures with more Tenderness than could ever have been contemplated by the Authors. ~ Jane Austen

On hearing the jingle of harness behind them, they turned. Melletin and Yelena were fast catching up, both grinning broadly.

"How did it go?" Ramil called.

"Would you believe it: he threatened to lock me up in his mother's house if I didn't behave!" exclaimed Yelena, sticking her tongue out at Melletin. "I threw a roll at him and he clipped me around the ear. The soldiers were all about to beat him up when I burst into tears and begged his forgiveness. We had a passionate reconciliation and went on our way with their good wishes for our marital harmony."

Melletin rubbed his lips. "Where's the next checkpoint, Yelena? I can't wait to do that again."

"Watch it, sir: I'll report you," Yelena threatened, but she looked very pleased all the same. ~ Julia Golding

In respect to Drower, and still more with Biruni and his medieval contemporaries, I am reminded of the praise given to Sir William Jones, the proponent of the idea that European and Indian languages had one common source. 'Blessed are the peacemakers,' commented political economist James Anderson, 'who by painful researches, tend to remove those destructive veils which have so long concealed mankind from each other. ~ Gerard Russell

Conflict resolution,' said Nightingale. 'Is this what they teach at Hendon these days?'
'Yes, sir,' I said. 'But don't worry, they also teach us how to beat people with phone books and the ten best ways to plant evidence. ~ Ben Aaronovitch

He fixed me with his Mad Rogan stare. "If you find the connection between Brian's disappearance and the conspiracy, I want to know about it. Not eventually, not when it's convenient, but immediately."
"Yes, sir. I was going to kiss you good night, but now I can't. It's against the rules to fraternize with my superior officer."
"Hilarious," he said. ~ Ilona Andrews

Rule One: Make friends with death
Tailgating in the Antarctic is no joke. We are trying to do nothing less ambitious than reverse the course of history. We want Team Krill to defeat Team Whale.
Look, if you want to tailgate in comfort, don't get on the boat. You can buy some quail eggs or snails or whatever you people eat and you can watch the Food Chain Games on your flat TV. Stay in Los Angeles. Hug your wife on your plush banquette. Cheer for the Antarctic minke whales, like every other asshole.
No, wait a second, here comes the real Rule One: if you are a supporter of Team Whale, you can go fuck yourself, my fine sir.
This list is for the fans of Team Krill. ~ Karen Russell

Mr. Clinton," he had said, when Henry ventured to inquire about a particularly ambiguous examination, "you may write until doomsday for all I care, but if your answers do not coincide with my answers they are wrong. Wrong, sir. ~ Harper Lee

But, sir!" Andy protested. "I don't know what happened to it. I didn't do anything with my desk. Did you see me move it?" "My vision is not in question, young man. You expect me to believe your desk simply vanished?" "I don't know what happened to it. I just know I didn't do anything with it." Then, not quietly enough under his breath, Andy added, "You need to get your eyes examined. ~ L.R.W. Lee

You do know how to play pinochle?" Mr. D eyed me suspiciously.
"I'm afraid not," I said.
"I'm afraid not, sir," he said.
"Well," he told me, "it is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all civilized young men to know the rules. ~ Rick Riordan

Woman, where are they? Has no one judged you guilty?"
She answers "No one, sir."
Then Jesus says, "I also don't judge you guilty. You may go now, but don't sin anymore."
If you have ever wondered how God reacts when you fail, frame these words and hang them on the wall.Read them. Ponder them.Drink from them. Stand below them and let them wash over your soul.
Or better still, take him with you to to your canyon of shame. Invite Christ to journey with you back to the Fremont Bridge of your world. Let Him stand beside you as you retell the events of the darkest nights of your soul.
And then listen. Listen carefully. He's speaking.
"I don't judge you guilty."
And watch. Watch carefully. He's writing. He's leaving a message. Not in the sand, but on a cross.
Not with his hand, but with his blood.
His message has two words: not guilty. ~ Max Lucado

Weight, sir, is entirely a function of gravity, and is therefore most malleable. Moreover, I am unwilling to concede you the authority to judge my weight over, under, or just right, these being subjective criteria. Aesthetics vary from world to world, as do genotypes and hereditary predisposition. I am quite satisfied with my present mass, sir. ~ George R R Martin

INT. DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS CLASS - FOURTEEN YEARS PREVIOUSLY - DAY
It is Boggart time. DUMBLEDORE supervises the line of teenagers advancing to try their luck. "Riddikulus" - "Riddikulus" - gusts of hilarity as a shark becomes a flotation device, a zombie's head turns into a pumpkin, a vampire turns into a buck-toothed rabbit.
DUMBLEDORE: All right, Newt. Be brave.
16-YEAR-OLD NEWT moves to the front of the queue. The Boggart turns into a Ministry desk.
DUMBLEDORE: Mmm, that's an unusual one. So Mr. Scamander fears what more than anything else in the world?
16-YEAR-OLD NEWT: Having to work in an office, sir.
The class roars with laughter.
DUMBLEDORE: Go ahead, Newt.
16-YEAR-OLD NEWT: Riddikulus!
NEWT turns the desk into a gamboling wooden dragon and moves aside.
DUMBLEDORE: Well done. Good job. ~ J.K. Rowling

You don't have to call me ma'am," I told him, wrapping my arms around myself some more as I entered the dining room.

His eyebrows lifted, eyeing me carefully. "You are in a relationship with Maxwell Alexander Emerson, are you not?"

"I am."

"Well, it just so happens Mr. Emerson is my employer and as such, so are you, hence the title 'ma'am', just as I call Mr. Uhler 'sir.'"

"You know about that."

"I was not aware it was a secret, and if it were, the lot of you are very poor at keeping it." He snickered ~ Amelia LeFay

Ian's method of dealing with Sir Francis Belhaven - who, his grandfather had discovered, was boasting that Elizabeth had spent several days with him - was less subtle and even more effective. "Belhaven," Ian said after spending a half hour searching for the repulsive knight.
The stout man had whirled around in surprise, leaving his acquaintances straining to hear Ian's low conversation with him. "I find your presence repugnant," Ian had said in a dangerously quiet voice. "I dislike your coat, I dislike your shirt, and I dislike the knot in your neckcloth. In fact, I dislike you. Have I offended you enough yet, or shall I continue?"
Belhaven's mouth dropped open, his pasty face turning a deathly gray. "Are - are you trying to force a - duel?"
"Normally one doesn't bother shooting a repulsive toad, but in this instance I'm prepared to make an exception, since this toad doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut!"
"A duel, with you?" he gasped. "Why, it would be no contest - none at all. Everyone knows what kind of marksman you are. It would be murder."
Ian leaned close, speaking between his clenched teeth. "It's going to be murder, you miserable little opium-eater, unless you suddenly remember very vocally that you've been joking about Elizabeth Cameron's visit."
At the mention of opium the glass slid from his fingers and crashed to the floor. "I have just realized I was joking."
"Good," Ian said, restraining the urge to strangle him. "Now start ~ Judith McNaught

I woke up dead.
Not only dead...but in hell.
I had always been somewhat sketchy on what the afterlife - were there actually such a thing - would be like for a person such as I. From all accounts and all my imaginings, I figured it would be one of two things. Either I would be surrounded by great, burning masses that were endlessly immolating souls in torment... or else I would find myself trapped within my own mind as a helpless bystander, condemned to watching me live out my life over and over again and powerless to do anything to change any of it. When idle speculation prompted me to dwell on these two options, I would find myself drawn invariably to the former, since the later was just too hideous to contemplate.
...
I was almost afraid to open my eyes, because once I did, I would know one way or the other. Perhaps I could have just lain there forever. Perhaps I was supposed to. Perhaps that was my true condemnation: to simply reside in hell with my eyes closed afraid of opening them lest matters deteriorate even further than they already had. This, in turn, made me dwell on the fact that every time I had believed things couldn't get worse, they promptly had done so with almost gleeful enthusiasm . ~ Peter David

In 1580, when William was sixteen, Campion passed through Warwickshire on his way to the more safely Catholic north. He stayed with a distant relative of Shakespeare's, Sir William Catesby, whose son Robert would later be a ringleader of the Gunpowder Plot. ~ Bill Bryson

Why did you take so much trouble with me today? I know how you hate to move out of that house." "Because you're my child. You and Jem were the children I never had. You two gave me something long ago, and I'm trying to pay my debts. You two helped me a - " "How, sir? ~ Harper Lee

Suffice it to say I was compelled to create this group in order to find everyone who is, let's say, borrowing liberally from my INESTIMABLE FOLIO OF CANONICAL MASTERPIECES (sorry, I just do that sometimes), and get you all together. It's the least I could do.

I mean, seriously. Those soliloquies in Moby-Dick? Sooo Hamlet and/or Othello, with maybe a little Shylock thrown in. Everyone from Pip in Great Expectations to freakin' Mr. Rochester in Jane Eyre mentions my plays, sometimes completely mangling my words in nineteenth-century middle-American dialect for humorous effect (thank you, Sir Clemens). Many people (cough Virginia Woolf cough) just quote me over and over again without attribution. I hear James Joyce even devoted a chapter of his giant novel to something called the "Hamlet theory," though do you have some sort of newfangled English? It looks like gobbledygook to me. The only people who don't seek me out are like Chaucer and Dante and those ancient Greeks. For whatever reason.

And then there are the titles. The Sound and the Fury? Mine. Infinite Jest? Mine. Proust, Nabokov, Steinbeck, and Agatha Christie all have titles that are me-inspired. Brave New World? Not just the title, but half the plot has to do with my work. Even Edgar Allan Poe named a character after my Tempest's Prospero (though, not surprisingly, things didn't turn out well for him!). I'm like the star to every wandering bark, the arrow of every compass, the buzzard to every haw ~ Sarah Schmelling

I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you - especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, - you'd forget me." "That I never should, sir: you know - " Impossible to proceed. ~ Charlotte Bronte

Peter, Adam's Son," said Father Christmas.
"Here, sir," said Peter.
"These are your presents," was the answer, "and they are tools, not toys. The time to use them is perhaps near at hand. Bear them well." With these words he handed to Peter a shield and a sword. The shield was the color of silver and across it there ramped a red lion, as bright as a ripe strawberry at the moment when you pick it. The hilt of the sword was of gold and it had a sheath and a sword belt and everything it needed, and it was just the right size and weight for Peter to use. Peter was silent and solemn as he received these gifts, for he felt they were a very serious kind of present.
"Susan, Eve's Daughter," said Father Christmas. "These are for you," and he handed her a bow and a quiver full of arrows and a little ivory horn. "You must use the bow only in great need," he said, "for I do not mean you to fight in the battle. It does not easily miss. And when you put this horn to your lips and blow it, then, wherever you are, I think help of some kind will come to you."
Last of all he said, "Lucy, Eve's Daughter," and Lucy came forward. He gave her a little bottle of what looked like glass (but people said afterwards that it was made of diamond) and a small dagger. "In this bottle," he said, "there is a cordial made of the juice of one of the fire-flowers that grow on the mountains of the sun. If you or any of your friends is hurt, a few drops of this will restore them. And the dagge ~ C.S. Lewis

I never saw quite so wretched an example of what a sea-faring life can do: but to a degree, I know it is the same with them all; they are all knocked about, and exposed to every climate, and every weather, till they are not fit to be seen. It is a pity they are not knocked on the head at once, before they reach Admiral Baldwin's age. ~ Jane Austen

As she reached back for the buckle, her fingers met Mr. Meisner's. She jumped. "I can do this ... Sir."
"Ah." He brushed aside her fingers. "I see you've at least remembered the sir."
"One always calls gentlemen that, just as you
"
With only a rustle of cloth to warn her, his teeth met in the lobe of her ear, sending a spark into her middle. Like the melt of winter snow, she felt heat pool in her lower body. Her fingers curled against her collarbone where her hands still rested either side of her neck.
"I'm not a gentleman, Faith. ~ Cari Silverwood

Corporal Nobbs," he rasped, "why are you kicking people when they're down?" "Safest way, sir," said Nobby. Nobby had long ago been told about fighting fair and not striking a fallen opponent, and had then given some creative thought to how these rules applied to someone four feet tall with the muscle tone of an elastic band. ~ Terry Pratchett

I wanted to say, with as much sarcasm as I could put into my voice, "Sir, your poem is both original and interesting, but the part that is interesting is not original, and the part that is original is not interesting." But all I said was, "Not bad, you need to work on it some more. ~ Helon Habila

Mr Babbington,' he said, suddenly stopping in his up and down. 'Take your hands out of your pockets. When did you last write home?' Mr Babbington was at an age when almost any question evokes a guilty response, and this was, in fact, a valid accusation. He reddened, and said, 'I don't know, sir.' 'Think, sir, think,' said Jack, his good-tempered face clouding unexpectedly ... 'Never, mind. Write a handsome letter. Two pages at least. And send it in to me with your daily workings tomorrow. Give your father my compliments and tell him my bankers are Hoares.' For Jack, like most other captains, managed the youngsters' parental allowance for them. 'Hoares,' he repeated absently once or twice, 'my bankers are Hoares,' and a strangled ugly crowing noise made him turn. Young Ricketts was clinging to the fall of the main burton-tackle in an attempt to control himself, but without much success. ~ Patrick O'Brian

God, all those months of seeing Kelsey's pictures and hearing about her travels, and I had been raging with jealousy. And now it was my turn.
I wanted to mind the gap at the tube station and eat fish and chips and try to make the Queen's guards laugh. I wanted to see Big Ben and the Globe and the London Bridge and Dame Judi Dench. Or Maggie Smith. Or Alan Rickman. Or Sir Ian McKellen. Or anybody famous and British, really.
Holy crap. This was really happening.
And I wasn't just a tourist. I was visiting with someone who'd grown up in the city. With my fiancé.
Take that, world. ~ Cora Carmack

Ieronym took hold of the cable with both hands, curved himself into a question mark, and grunted. The ferry creaked and lurched. The silhouette of the peasant in the tall hat slowly began to recede from me--which meant that the ferry was moving. Soon Ieronym straightened up and began working with one hand. We were silent and looked at the bank towards which we were now moving. There the "lumination" which the peasant had been waiting for was already beginning. At the water's edge, barrels of pitch blazed like huge bonfires. Their reflection, crimson as the rising moon, crept to meet us in long, wide stripes. The burning barrels threw light on their own smoke and on the long human shadows that flitted about the fire; but further to the sides and behind them, where the velvet ringing rushed from, was the same impenetrable darkness. Suddenly slashing it open, the golden ribbon of a rocket soared skywards; it described an arc and, as if shattering against the sky, burst and came sifting down in sparks. On the bank a noise was heard resembling a distant "hoorah."

"How beautiful," I said.

"It's even impossible to say how beautiful!" sighed Ieronym. "It's that kind of night, sir! At other times you don't pay attention to rockets, but now any vain thing makes you glad. Where are you from? ~ Anton Chekhov

If my opinion that substance requires a true unity were founded only on a definition I had formulated in opposition to common usage, *then the dispute would be only one of words*. But besides the fact that most philosophers have taken the term in almost the same fashion, distinguishing between a unity in itself and an accidental unity, between substantial and accidental form, and between perfect and imperfect, natural and artificial mixtures, I take things to a much higher level, and setting aside the question of terminology, *I believe that where there are only beings by aggregation, there aren't any real beings*. For every being by aggregation presupposes beings endowed with real unity, because every being derives its reality only from the reality of those beings of which it is composed, so that it will not have any reality at all if each being of which it is composed is itself a being by aggregation, a being for which we must still seek further grounds for its reality, grounds which can never be found in this way, if we must always continue to seek for them. I agree, Sir, that there are only machines (that are often animated) in all of corporeal nature, but I do not agree that *there are only aggregates of substances, there must also be true substances from which all the aggregates result.

We must, then, necessarily come down to the atoms of Epicurus and Cordemoy (which are things you reject along with me), or else we must admit that we do not find any reality i ~ Huston Smith

Elaine turned to her father in her distress. 'Father will you give me permission to ride after Sir Lancelot? I must reach him. Otherwise I will go out of my mind with grief.'
'Go, good daughter. Rescue him, if you can.'
So she made herself ready for the journey, weeping all the time. Gawain himself rode back to the court of the king in London"
–The Fair Maid of Astolat ~ Peter Ackroyd

As the boys steadily and monotonously drove the raft toward mid-stream it was no doubt understood that these orders were given only for "style," and were not intended to mean anything in particular. "What sail's she carrying?" "Courses, tops'ls, and flying-jib, sir." "Send the r'yals up! Lay out aloft, there, half a dozen of ye - foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Shake out that maintogalans'l! Sheets and braces! NOW my hearties!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Hellum-a-lee - hard a port! Stand by to meet her when she comes! Port, port! NOW, men! With a will! Stead-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir! ~ Mark Twain