novelists-from-scotland

"Three days at , and up anchor again; our next place of call being . Every one has heard of the , who tried to beat the British but didn't, ... was caught and chained ... to a rock somewhere in the middle of the sea ... The rock was St. Helena, and a very beautiful rock it is too, hill and and thriving town, its mountain sides tilled and its s and s containing many a fertile little farm. It is the duty of every one who touches the shores of this far-famed island to make a pilgrimage to .... both sides of the road all the way to the tomb are strewn with , empty of course, and at the grave itself there are s of them; and the same is the case at every place which has visit4ed, or where English foot has ever trod."

"In general appearance the is an extremely large and powerful fellow, with a beautiful head and speaking countenance, in which sagacity is blended with nobility, and a body of great symmetry, combining, one might say, the agility of the with the strength of the ."

"Very few of the old s interfere with the duties of their assistants, but there be men who seem to think you have merely come to the service to learn, not to practise your profession, and therefore they treat as mere students, or at the best hobble-de-hoy doctors. Of this class was Dr. Gruff, a man whom I would back against the whole profession for , , , or ; but who, I rather suspect, never prescribed a dose of , , or in his life."

"I have dozens of well-authenticated anecdotes of cats who are very expert at fishing. I have, myself, watched a cat by the banks of a stream, until I have seen him dive into the the water, and emerge almost immediately with a large in his mouth. Cats who fish, generally belong to s, or are bred and reared somewhere near a river. They not only catch fish of all sorts, but even s; often springing many feet off the bank after prey of this kind, and even diving under to secure it. In Scotland cats often attack and destroy large quantities of salmon in small streams, in the spawning season."

"Will books, as we know them, come to an end? Yes, absolutely, within 25 years the digital revolution will bring about the end of paper books. But more importantly, s and will mean the end of . Ebooks, in the future, will be written by first-timers, by teams, by speciality subject enthusiasts and by those who were already established in the era of the paper book. The digital revolution will not emancipate writers or open up a new era of creativity, it will mean that writers offer up their work for next to nothing or for free. Writing, as a profession, will cease to exist."

"Every child knows how fond cats are of hunting and catching mice, but no cat any respectability would think of confining her attention to mice alone. The very presence of a cat about a house will usually suffice to keep these destructive pests at bay; and if one should pop out of its hole, it knows, or ought to know, what to expect."

"Communal living: Plato recommended it, 19th-century religious separatists tried it, anarchists and hippies spectacularly failed at it. Attempting to live with no an . It's supposed to erase greed and create equality. You'd think that this important subject would have created a vast body of literature, but you'd be wrong. Novels about s are very rare and this might be because the ideal of "the communal" is at loggerheads with the bias towards "the individual" in the novel. But there are some gems, which are important documents of a noble, failed, social experiment."

"When I was a little boy at school, floundering through Herodotus, and getting double doses of fum-fum daily for my Anabasis—for my old teacher, when he couldn't get enough Greek into one end of me, took jolly good care to put it in at the other—there was no man I had greater respect for than Alexander the Great, owing to his having done that business so neatly. I practiised afterwards on the dominie's tawse (i.e., the fum-fum strap); I tied a splendid knot on it, and then cut it through with a jackknife; but woe's me! the plaguy dominie caught me in the very act, and—and I had to take my meals standing for a week."

"We like to think we're free in the ; that we're beyond the forces of advertising and social manipulation by market forces. But there is a new — the rise of 'the single person' as model consumer — that presents us with a paradox. What we once thought of as radical — staying single - may now be reactionary. The long-term relationship, like the job-for-life, is fast being deregulated into short term, temporary arrangements with no promise of commitment, as sociologist Zygmunt Bauman has been warning us for over a decade. It's hard for two people to be self-employed, with no promise of a stable future, together. Capitalism now wants us to be single."

"James said that in years to come, when the company had swelled to thousands, people would brag about having been on this boat. It would be like saying you were with Mao on the Long March."

"It was insane that you had to pretend to be interested in your job and use these lame phrases like “pinging things over” “by close of play”."

"Yes! I could find some comfort in the thought Of being scourged, Were there but hope that this defiling sin Which mars my life, and taints my heart within Could so be purged, And I might live, in virtue of the rod, The life in God."

"James was twenty- seven and never had a boss again. Until that moment, he and Roland had lived as employees, as if in the warm, dark, cosy- fetid hold of a ship. What happened up at the helm was not their concern."

"O to be like my Lord! Yet must I be Mine own self too, And to the nature He bestowed on me Be frankly true.The olive fruits not as the clustering vine; Nor may we get Scent of the rose or lily from woodbine, Or violet."

"James had assumed this would be a task of meticulous detection, of inefficiencies brilliantly uncovered, but there was blatant wastage everywhere. Half the employees barely lifted a finger. They spent days listlessly scheduling meetings or organising the holiday calendar. A company grown fat on oil. For James it was like finding ripe fields of wheat yearning for the scythe. Roland felt like a snitch."

"This was what it must be like when the winners of some shitty trophy in Slovenia qualified for the Champions League and came up against Real Madrid. It was the sheer embarrassment of having taken yourself seriously."

"The twentieth century had conclusively settled the question of how a society should be organised: liberal democracy, free markets and personal self- realisation. Even the Russians and Chinese had hauled down the red flag and realised they'd rather have a nice time than a world revolution. Even the Irish had settled their eight-hundred-year vendetta, simply because no one wanted it any more."

"It was as if they were together in their campaign tent, studying the map and deciding where to deploy their regiments."

"For James, there was no sense that expanding Tesco’s sales onto the web was what the human race urgently needed. It didn’t have to be. This was a ladder. And yet: he’d come first in the most prestigious course at the most famous university in the world, and he was sitting here in his boxers copying and pasting the item code for ironing boards. It didn’t feel as if he were ascending to greatness."

"The devout and politically free inhabitant of New England is a kind of Laocoön who makes not the least effort to escape from the serpents which are crushing him. Mammon is his idol which he adores not only with his lips but with the whole force of his body and mind. In his view the world is no more than a Stock Exchange, and he is convinced that he has no other destiny here below than to become richer than his neighbor. Trade has seized upon all his thoughts, and he has no other recreation than to exchange objects. When he travels he carries, so to speak, his goods and his counter on his back and talks only of interest and profit. If he loses sight of his own business for an instant it is only in order to pry into the business of his competitors."

"The process in England...is to ring for the chambermaid; but in America there are no bells, and no chambermaids. You therefore walk to the bar and solicit the favor of being supplied with a candle, a request that is ultimately, though by no means immediately, complied with. You then explore the way to your apartment unassisted....Your number is 63, but in what part of the mansion that number is to be found you are of course without the means of probable conjecture. Let it be supposed, however, that you...at length discover the object of your search. If you are an Englishman, and too young to have roughed it under Wellington, you are probably what is called in this country 'almighty particular,' and rejoice in a couple of comfortable pillows to say nothing of a lurking prejudice in favor of multiplicity of blankets, especially with the thermometer some fifty degrees below the freezing point. Such luxuries, however, it is ten to one you will not find in the uncurtained crib in which you are destined to pass the night. Your first impulse is to walk downstairs and make known your wants to the landlord. This is a mistake. Have nothing to say to him. You may rely on it, he is too busy to have any time to throw away in humoring the whimsies of a foreigner; and should it happen, as it does sometimes, in the New England States, that the establishment is composed of natives, your chance of a comfortable sleep for the night is about as great as that of your gaining the Thirty Thousand pound prize in the lottery."

"It is easy for the fool, especially the learned and scientific fool, to prove that there is no God, but, like the murmuring sea, which heeds not the scream of wandering birds, the soul of humanity murmurs for God, and confutes the erudite folly of the fool by disregarding it."

"There is a sort of republican plainness and simplicity in their address, quite in harmony with the institutions of their country. An American bows less than an Englishman; he deals less in mere conventional forms and expressions of civility; he pays few or no compliments; makes no unmeaning or overstrained professions; but he takes you by the hand with a cordiality which at once intimates, that he is disposed to regard you as a friend....Perhaps I was the more flattered by the kindness of my reception, from having formed anticipations of a less pleasing character. The Americans I had met in Europe had generally been distinguished by a certain reserve, and something even approaching to the offensive in manner, which had not contributed to create a prepossession in their favour. It seemed, as if each individual were impressed with the conviction that the whole dignity of his country was concentred in his person."

"Maurice Nicoll says all history is a living today. We are not enjoying one spark of life in a huge, dead waste. We are, instead, existing at one point "in a vast process of the living who still think and feel but are invisible to us.""

"Winds are raging fierce and high, Lurid lightnings wreathe the sky, Thunders roll and night is nigh, Ships 'mid storm-toss'd breakers lie At the ocean's will. Little ones there are who weep, Wives who weary vigils keep, When all else have gone to sleep. Father! to yon angry deep "Say Thou, Peace, be still.""

"We had been dressing the wee lassie one day is a graceful fairy-like of Aunt Ellen's devising, and maternal pride gave utterance to some (foolish) remarks about the child's appearance. Very sweetly came the rebuke from childhood's wisdom. "Yes, but it was very good of God to make me pretty.""

"I hear you're such a lazy bird, You cannot build a ; Perhaps you could, if you would try— We ought to do our best. The little bird that told me this Suspected something worse,— That you neglect your little ones, And put them out to nurse. Oh, Cuckoo! if this story's true, I think you're much to blame. Then talk no more about yourself; Go, hide yourself, for shame!"

"... The Corbie (or Raven) is sacred to the All-Father. The Katyogle (or Owl) is consecrated to the goddess of wisdom. ... I have too much respect for the Corbie and Katyogle to dwell in detail upon their . I care not for their "," according to the scientist. The and species to which they belong influence me not one whit. Why—when I know on the authority of a Shetland witch, that the Corbie can assume any form he pleases, and that the Katyogle is the inhabitant of another world in disguise–why should I trouble my spirit with assigning to either a place in the Darwinian circle?"

"An incantation against nightmare was once used over me by old Mam-Kirsty famed for her witchcraft."

"Blogg sneers at ancient birth;—yes, Blogg, we see, Your ears are longer than your pedigree."

"Through regions by wild men and cannibals haunted, Old Dame Ida Pfeiffer goes lone and undaunted; But, bless you, the risk's not so great as it's reckon'd, She's too plain for the first, and too tough for the second."

"Pompous the boast, and yet a truth it speaks: A Modern Athens—fit for modern Greeks."

"Tomkins will clear the land, they say, From every foul abuse: So chimneys in the olden day, Were cleansed by a goose."

"When one searches any place, be it a gypsy caravan or a baronial mansion, methodically and exhaustively, one has to wreck it completely in the process."

"They had come a long way, those gypsies encamped for their evening meal on the dusty greensward by the winding mountain road in Provence. ... A long journey, hot and stifling and endlessly, monotonously repetitive across the already baking plains of Central Europe or slow and difficult and exasperating and occasionally dangerous in the traversing of the great ranges of mountains that had lain in their way."

"A terrified rat will swear to anything."

"Unspecified exhortation, when translated into practice, is always liable to a certain amount of executive misdirection."

"I was glad I was alive. Glad to be alive. It had been the sort of night that didn’t look like having any morning, but here I was and I was glad. The girls were glad. I was warm and dry and fed, the jonge Genever was happily chasing the red corpuscles in a game of merry-go-round, all the coloured threads were weaving themselves into a beautiful pattern and by day’s end it would be over. I had never felt so good before. I was never to feel so good again."

""I am sorry, Miss Lemay. This must have been a great shock to you and it's all my fault. Will you come and have a drink with me? You look as if you need one." She dabbed her cheek some more and looked at me in a manner that demolished all thoughts of instant friendship. "I wouldn't even cross the road with you," she said tonelessly. The way she said it indicated that she would willingly have gone half-way across a busy street with me and then abandoned me there. If I had been a blind man."

"They have every good reason to fear those from the outside world. We, ironically known as the civilizados—in practically everything that matters they're a damned sight more civilised than we are—bring them so-called progress, which harms them, so-called change, which harms them, so-called civilisation, which harms them even more, and disease, which kills them."

"They'll be coming for you, Mr. Jones. They'll be coming any moment now. I hate to say this, but I must. It is my duty to warn you what will happen to you, an enemy spy. You'll be tortured, Mr. Jones—not simply everyday tortures like pulling out your teeth and toe-nails, but unspeakable tortures I can't mention with Miss Ellison here—and then you'll finish in the gas chambers. If you're still alive. ... Oh God, when they strip you off and strap you down on the torture table—" Two seconds later Carnaby-Jones was over the sill and sliding down the nylon rope. His eyes were screwed tightly shut. Mary said, admiringly: "You really are the most fearful liar ever." "Schaffer keeps telling me the same thing," Smith admitted. "You can't all be wrong."

"He says if it's a choice between a prisoner-of-war camp in Germany and internment in Switzerland he knows which side of the frontier he’s coming down on... After that we fly down the Swiss side of Lake Constance, turn east at Lindau, climb to eight thousand to clear the mountains and it’s only a hop, skip and jump to the Weissspitze." "I see," Smith said weakly. "But—but don't the Swiss object?" "Frequently, sir."

"The Peacemaker Colt has now been in production, without change in design, for a century. ... It is the oldest hand-gun in the world, without question the most famous and, if efficiency in its designated task of maiming and killing be taken as criterion of its worth, then it is also probably the best hand-gun ever made."

"With a face and a figure and an acting talent like that, she could have had Hollywood tramping a path of beaten gold to her doorstep."

"This won't look so good in my obituary," Schaffer said dolefully. There was a perceptible edge of strain under the lightly spoken words. ... "Gave his life for his country in a ladies' lavatory in Upper Bavaria."

"Kind of a treble agent, see?" Schaffer said in a patient explaining tone. "That's one better than double."

"The Major Smiths of this world don't drive over the edge of a cliff. Quotation from the future Mrs. Schaffer. The Major Smiths of this world don't fall off the roofs of cable cars. Quotation from the future. Mrs. Schaffer's future husband."

"She had the best kind of courage, or maybe the worst kind, the kind that gets you into trouble."

"We know about this deliberate policy admittedly as effective as it is suicidal—of endless provocation, waiting for something, for somebody to break. But please, Major Sherman, please do not try to provoke too many people in Amsterdam. We have too many canals."

"The intolerance of ignorance, not wanting to know – that is the last real frontier on earth."