Ariella > Ariella's Quotes

“According to some, heroic deaths are admirable things. I've never been convinced by this argument, mainly because, no matter how cool, stylish, composed, unflappable, manly, or defiant you are, at the end of the day you're also dead. Which is a little too permanent for my liking.”
― Jonathan Stroud, Ptolemy's Gate

“One magician demanded I show him an image of the love of his life. I rustled up a mirror.”
― Jonathan Stroud, The Amulet of Samarkand

“Books can also provoke emotions. And emotions sometimes are even more troublesome than ideas. Emotions have led people to do all sorts of things they later regret-like, oh, throwing a book at someone else.”
― Pseudonymous Bosch, The Name of This Book Is Secret

“Generally speaking, books don't cause much harm. Except when you read them, that is. Then they cause all kinds of problems.”
― Pseudonymous Bosch, The Name of This Book Is Secret

“But remember what I said about forgetting what I said?”
― Pseudonymous Bosch, The Name of This Book Is Secret

“USE COMMON SENSE. If somebody offers you a thousand dollars for this book, chances are their motives are not pure. Then again, a thousand dollars is a lot of money. Take the money and run.”
― Pseudonymous Bosch, This Isn't What It Looks Like

“*Appendix usually means "small outgrowth from large intestine," but in this case it means "additional information accompanying main text." Or are those really the same things? Think carefully before you insult this book.”
― Pseudonymous Bosch, The Name of This Book Is Secret

“Not all novelists are power-hungry madman. Some are power-hungry madwomen.”
― Pseudonymous Bosch, The Name of This Book Is Secret

“Q: Why do you like chocolate so much?

A: The answer, clearly, is because I've tasted chocolate.”
― Pseudonymous Bosch

“I ate him," said the homunculus, biting into his sausage.
The kids couldn't hide their looks of horror.
He smiled, sausage juice running down his chin. "Oh, don't worry - I cooked him first. I'm not a barbarian.”
― Pseudonymous Bosch, If You're Reading This, It's Too Late

“This book will not harm you unless someone throws it at you which is a possibilty never to be discounted.”
― Pseudonymous Bosch, The Name of This Book Is Secret

“One dictionary defines denouement as "a final part in which everything is made clear and no questions or surprises remain." By that definition, it is exactly the wrong word to describe this chapter. This chapter will make nothing clear; it will raise many questions; and it may even contain a surprise or two. But I say we call it the denouement anyway because the words sounds so sophisticated and French.”
― Pseudonymous Bosch, The Name of This Book Is Secret

“You know, people always warn children about taking candy from strange adults. But they never warn us adults about taking candy from strange children.
All those sweet-looking kids who sell boxes of candy bars on the street to help pay for schooling - how do we know what's in those bars? And don't even get me stated on that nefarious institution designed to lure unsuspecting customers into buying mysterious frosted goodies: the bake sale.
Adults, be warned: if a child wanted to poison you it would be a piece of cake! Literally a piece of cake.”
― Pseudonymous Bosch, This Book Is Not Good for You

“Some secrets are meant to be known- but once known you can never forget them.”
― Pseudonymous Bosch, The Name of This Book Is Secret

“When I was younger, I loved graveyards. They weren't spooky so much as mysterious. Each tombstone another story to uncover. Another life to learn about.

Now that I'm older - I won't say how old - I hate graveyards. The only life - or rather death - I see in the tombstones is my own.”
― Pseudonymous Bosch, If You're Reading This, It's Too Late

“But there were other, vaguer, harder-to-pin-down feelings, like: a pit in the stomach that means something is either really good or really bad or both. A feeling of being old and young at once. A sense of beginnings and endings happening at the same time. A certainty that your life is changing, but an uncertainty about how it's changing and whether you want it to.”
― Pseudonymous Bosch, The Name of This Book Is Secret

“Can you define "plan" as "a loose sequence of manifestly inadequate observations and conjectures, held together by panic, indecision, and ignorance"? If so, it was a very good plan.”
― Jonathan Stroud, The Ring of Solomon

“Check out that one at the end. He's taken the form of a footstool. Weird...but somehow I like his style."

"That is a footstool.”
― Jonathan Stroud, The Golem's Eye

“That did it. I'd gone through a lot in the past few days. Everyone I met seemed to want a piece of me: djinn, magicians, humans...it made no difference.I'd been summoned, manhandled, shot at, captured, constricted, bossed about and generally taken for granted. And now, to cap it all, this bloke is joining in too, when all I'd been doing was quietly trying to kill him.”
― Jonathan Stroud, The Amulet of Samarkand

“Believe me, I know all about bottle acoustics. I spent much of the sixth century in an old sesame oil jar, corked with wax, bobbing about in the Red Sea. No one heard my hollers. In the end an old fisherman set me free, by which time I was desperate enough to grant him several wishes. I erupted in the form of a smoking giant, did a few lightning bolts, and bent to ask him his desire. Poor old boy had dropped dead of a heart attack. There should be a moral there, but for the life of me I can't see one.”
― Jonathan Stroud

“A typical master. Right to the end, he didn’t give me a chance to get a word in edgeways. Which is a pity, because at that last moment I’d have liked to tell him what I thought of him. Mind you, since in that split second we were, to all intents and purposes, one and the same, I rather think he knew anyway.”
― Jonathan Stroud, Ptolemy's Gate

“Jabor finally appeared at the top of the stairs, sparks of flame radiating from his body and igniting the fabric of the house around him. He caught sight of the boy, reached out his hand and stepped forward.

And banged his head nicely on the low-slung attic door.”
― Jonathan Stroud, The Amulet of Samarkand

“Much has happened since last we met, Bartimaeus," he went on. "Do you remember how we parted?"
"No." I did.
"You set light to me, old friend. Struck a match and left me burning in a copse."
The crow shifted uneasily beneath the cleaver."That's a gesture of endearment in some cultures. Some hug, some kiss, some set each other on fire in small patches of woodland...”
― Jonathan Stroud, Ptolemy's Gate

“I thought I told you to stop doing that," he snapped.
A thin-lipped mouth opened; the jutting chin and nose knocked together indignantly. "Do what?"
"Taking on such a hideous appearance. I've just had my breakfast."
A section of brow lifted, allowing an eyeball to roll forward with a squelching sound.The face looked
unapologetic."Sorry, mate," it said. "It's just my job."
"Your job is to destroy anyone entering my study without authority. No more, no less."
The door guard considered. "True. But I seek to preempt entry by scaring trespassers away. To my way
of thinking, deterrence is more aesthetically satisfying than punishment."
Mr. Mandrake snorted. "Trespassers apart, you'll likely frighten Ms. Piper here to death."
The face shook from side to side, a process that caused the nose to wobble alarmingly. "Not so. When
she comes alone, I moderate my features. I reserve the full horror for those I consider morally vicious."
"But you just looked that way to me!"
"The contradiction being...?”
― Jonathan Stroud, Ptolemy's Gate

“I wanted to wake you straightaway, but I knew I had to wait several hours to ensure you were safely recovered."
"What! How long has it been?"
"Five minutes. I got bored.”
― Jonathan Stroud, The Golem's Eye

“listen, a goad's anything that provokes or incites an enemy
---
let me have a go: cursed deamon! you have met your end! the shivering fire awaits you! i shall spread your vile essance across this hall like... um, like margarine, a very think layer of it...
---
ye-es... im not sure he'll pick up on that analogy. never mind, keep going.”
― Jonathan Stroud, Ptolemy's Gate

“In recent weeks it has come to my attention that many caravans have met with disaster; they have not gotten through."
I grunted wisely. "Probably ran out of water. That's the thing about deserts. Dry."
"Indeed. A fascinating analysis. But survivors reaching Hebron report differently: monsters fell upon them in the wastes."
"What, fell upon them in a squashed-them kind of way?"
"More the leaped-out-and-slew-them kind. (...)”
― Jonathan Stroud, The Ring of Solomon

“What is a gathering without unseemly drunkenness?”
― Jonathan Stroud, Heroes of the Valley

“Listen,” I began, “this is an established, traditional form that—”
“Traditional nothing. Where are your clothes?”
“Clothes?” I said weakly. “I don’t normally bother with them in this guise.”
“Well, you could put on a pair of shorts, at least. You’re not decent.”
“I’m not sure they’d go with the wings….” The demon frowned, blinked. “Hold on, enough of this!”
“Lederhosen would. They’d compliment the leather.”
― Jonathan Stroud, Ptolemy's Gate

“Bartimaeus: "A small piece of advice," I said "it isn't wise to be rude to someone bigger than you, especially when they've just trapped you under a boulder."
Imp: "You can stick your advice up...."

This brief pause replaces a short, censored episode, characterized by bad language and some sadly necessary violence. When we pick up the story again, everything is as before, except that I am perspiring slightly and the contrite imp is the model of cooperation.

Bartimaeus: "I'll ask again: who is Rupert Deveraeux?"
Imp: "He's the British Prime Minister, oh Most Bounteous and Merciful one.”
― Jonathan Stroud, The Amulet of Samarkand