Jasper Fforde

"“How is the book going?” I asked returning to my knitting. “The self-help stuff?” “The magnum opus.” Landen looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, “More opus than magnum. I’m trying to figure out whether the lack of progress is writer’s block, procrastination, idleness or just plain incompetence.”"

"I just had an idea for a cheap form of power: by bringing pasta and antipasta together, we could be looking at the utter annihilation of ravioli and liberation of vast quantities of energy."

"“I am surprised to see you because…you died six years ago!” “I did?” inquired Mycroft with genuine concern. “Why does no one tell me these things?” I shrugged, as there was really no good answer to this."

"“Dead,” muttered Mycroft with a resigned air. “Never been that before. Not even once. Are you quite sure?”"

"“Incredibly enough, reality TV has just gotten worse.” “Is that possible? I asked. “Wasn’t Celebrity Trainee Pathologist the pits?” I thought for a moment. “Actually, Whose Life Support Do We Switch Off? was worse. Or maybe Sell Your Granny. Wow, the choice these days makes it also tricky to decide. Bowden laughed. “I’ll agree that Granny lowered the bar for distasteful program makers everywhere, but RTA-TV, never one to shrink from a challenge, has devised Samaritan Kidney Swap. Ten renal-failure patients take turns trying to convince a tissue-typed donor—and the voting viewers—which one should have his spare kidney.” I groaned. Reality TV was to me the worst form of entertainment—the modern equivalent of paying sixpence to watch lunatics howling at the wall down at the local madhouse."

"“Listen to what it says in the horoscopes: ‘If it is your birthday, there may be an increased amount of mail. Expect gifts, friendly salutations from people and the occasional surprise. Possibility of cake.’ That’s so weird—I wonder if any of it will come true?”"

"I’d come to realize over the years that anything created by mankind had error, mischief and bureaucratic officialdom hardwired at inception, and the fictional world was no different."

"“What’s in Hangar One at the moment?” I asked the driver. “The Magus.” “Still?” Even the biggest refit never took more than a week, and John Fowles’s labyrinthine-plotted masterpiece had been in there nearly five. “It’s taking longer than we thought—they removed all the plot elements for cleaning, and no one can remember how they go back together again.” “I’m not sure it will make a difference,” I murmured as we pulled up outside Hangar Eight."

"But his hits were greater than the sum of his misses, and such is the way with greatness."

"Noting with dismay that most cross-religion bickering occurred only because all the major religions were convinced that they were the right one and every other religion was the wrong one, the founders of the Global Standard Deity based their fledgling “portmanteau” faith on the premise that most religions want the same thing once all the shameless, manipulative power play had been subtracted: peace, stability, equality and justice—the same as the nonfaiths. As soon as they found that centralizing thread that unites all people and makes a dialogue of sorts with a Being of Supreme Moral Authority mostly optional, the GSD flourished."

"“How is the faith-unification business?” “We’ve nearly got everyone,” said Joffy with a smile. “The atheists came on board last week. Once we had suggested that ‘god’ could be a set of essentially beneficent physical rules of the cosmos, they were only too happy to join. In fact, apart from a few scattered remnants of faith leaders who can’t quite come to terms with the loss of their power, influence and associated funny hats, it’s all looking pretty good.”"

"You’ll excuse me if I’m not convinced by your supposed altruism."

"“Friday may have tricked his parents, the SHE and half the ChronoGuard, but there’s one person no teenage boy ever managed to fool.” “And that is?” “His younger sister.”"

"Friday nodded and took a deep breath. “Has anyone noticed how short attention spans seem to have cast a certain latitude across the nation?” “Do I ever,” I replied, rolling my eyes and thinking of the endlessly downward clicking of the Read-O-Meter. “No one’s reading books anymore. They seem to prefer the mind numbing spectacle of easily digested trash TV and celebrity tittle-tattle.” “Exactly,” said Friday. “The long view has been eroded. We can’t see beyond six months, if that, and short-termism will spell our end.”"

"The Commonsense Party’s first major policy reversal of perceived current wisdom was with the scrapping of performance targets, league standings and the attempt to make subtle human problems into figures on a graph that could be solved quickly and easily through “initiatives.” Arguing that important bodies such as the Health Service should have the emphasis on care and not on administration, the Commonsense party forced through legislation that essentially argued, “If it takes us ten years to get into the shit, it will take us twenty years to get out—and that journey starts now.”"

"“You’ll forgive me for saying this,” said Webastow, looking over his glasses, “but this is the most harebrained piece of unadulterated stupidity that any government has ever undertaken anywhere.” “Thank you very much,” replied Ms. Yogert courteously. “I’ll make sure your compliments are forwarded to Prime Minister van de Post.”"

"A third faction who called them selves “simplists” argued that there was a single fundamental rule the governed all story: if it works, it works."

"Rescue seemed a very remote possibility, and that was at the nub of the whole ethical-dilemma argument. You never come out on top, no matter what. The only way to win the game is not to play."

"“I need to get home and have a long, hot bath and then a martini.” Thursday5 thought for a moment. “After you’ve drunk the long, hot bath,” she observed, “you’ll never have room for the martini.”"

"“The ChronoGuard has shut itself down, and time travel is as it should be: technically, logically and theoretically…impossible.” “Good thing, too,” replied Landen. “It always made my head ache. In fact I was thinking of doing a self-help book for SF novelists eager to write about time travel. It would consist of a single word: Don’t.”"

"About ten degrees upslope of Fiction, I could see our nearest neighbor: Artistic Criticism. It was an exceptionally beautiful island, yet deeply troubled, confused and suffused with a blanketing layer of almost impenetrable bullshit."

"To a text-based life-form, unpredictable syntax and poor grammar is a source of huge discomfort. Ill-fitting grammar are like ill-fitting shoes. You can get used to it for a bit, but then one day your toes fall off and you can’t walk to the bathroom. Poor syntax is even worse. Change word order and a sentence useless for anyone Yoda except you have."

"I didn’t know much about Conspiracy, but I did know that its theorists were mostly paranoid and tended to value conviction above evidence."

"To fail spectacularly is a loser’s paradise."

"The good thing about being in the BookWorld is that we aren’t hampered by anything as awkward as physical laws. The RealWorld must be hideously annoying to do science in."

"“It’s highly disorderly,” he explained, “not like here. There is no easily definable plot, and you can run yourself ragged wondering what the significance can be of a chance encounter. You’ll also find that for the most part there is no shorthand to the narrative, so everything happens in a long and painfully drawn out sequence. Apparently the talk can be confusing—for the most part, people just say the first thing that comes into their heads.” “Is it as bad as they say it is?” “I’ve heard it’s worse. Here in the BookWorld, we say what needs to be said for the story to proceed. Out there? Well, you can discount at least eighty percent of chat as just meaningless drivel.” “I never thought the percentage was that high.” “In some individuals it can be as high as ninety-two percent. The people to listen to are the ones who don’t say very much.”"

"“Bipedal movement is the skill of controlled falling,” said Square. “If it weren’t so commonplace, it would seem miraculous—like much out here, to be truthful.”"

"Humans are more or less identical except for a few peculiar habits generally delineated by geographic circumstances and historical precedent. But essentially, they’re all the same and reading from the same rule book. To get along you have to appreciate the rules, but also know that other people know the rules—and that they know that you know the rules. Get it?"

"“Did she believe you?” “She’s an excellent journalist—of course not.”"

"Mrs. Next came back into the room. “You never told me you’d bought a gold-plated toilet.” Landen frowned. “We don’t have a gold-plated toilet.” “Oh, dear,” said Mrs. Next. I think I’ve just peed in your tuba.”"

"“Why didn’t he say so directly?” asked Sprockett, not unreasonably. “This is Fiction,” I explained. “The exigency of drama requires events to be clouded in ambiguity.”"

"The idea that people actually do this because they like it strikes me as double insanity with added insanity."

"Sprockett buzzed briefly to himself. “Does that sort of thing happen out there in the RealWorld, or is it just in books?” I thought for a moment. Of the untidy chaos I had seen in the RealWorld; of not knowing what was going to happen; of not knowing what, if anything, head relevance. The RealWorld was a sprawling mess of a book in need of a good editor. I thought then of the narrative order here in the BookWorld, our resolved plot lines and the observance of natural justice we took for granted. “Literature is claimed to be a mirror of the world,” I said, “but the Outlanders are fooling themselves. The BookWorld is as orderly as people in the RealWorld hope their own world to be—it isn’t a mirror, it’s an aspiration.”"

"Everything comes to an end. A good bottle of wine, a summer’s day, a long-running sitcom, one’s life, and eventually our species. The question for many of us is not that everything will come to an end but when. And can we do anything vaguely useful until it does?"

"Sadly, a lifetime in law enforcement tends not to create a bunch of grateful villains happy that you have shown them the error of their ways, but rather a lot of disgruntled ne’er-do-wells eager for payback."

"Having to mix with dimwits is hideously boring. Great-Uncle Mycroft put it best when he said that for a genius this planet is excruciatingly dull, only made briefly more illuminating when another genius happens along."

"“It’s simply part of wider research on a neural expansifier that increases the synaptic pathways in the brain. Aside from repairing traumatic damage and reversing the effects of dementia, it can potentially make dumb people smart.” “I’m trying hard, but I’m not sure I can think of a more useful invention.”"

"“Do I have to talk to insane people?” “You’re a librarian now. I’m afraid it’s mandatory.”"

"I don’t think God has any more idea than you or I about what’s going on."

"“Think of it this way: A single brain cell has no intelligence, but in company it can do extraordinary things. Perhaps the entirety of existence is the true, unifying intelligence that drives what occurs—for a reason that is quite beyond our understanding, or even to a higher plane where the concept of understanding is laughably redundant.” It was an interesting concept. Mycroft had often theorized that the whole of existence was so large and hideously complex that it must be sentient. And if this were so, then it must have a truly warped sense of humor and have an abiding love of math and hydrogen—and a deep loathing for order."

"“I always really admired you growing up. Always smiling through your unhappiness. A real inspiration.” “I wasn’t unhappy.” “You looked unhappy.” “Looks can be deceptive.” “All too true,” she said, “but I meant what I said: inspirational in a sort of tragic way, like you were the failure in the family, but always looked on the bright side of everything.” “You’re very kind,” I said, long used to Megan’s ways, “but it could have been much worse: I could have been born without tact or empathy, and be shallow, self-absorbed and hideously patronizing.”"

"It would have been easy to dislike her intensely, but I actually felt nothing for her at all."

"“What do you think?” “I can hardly contain my indifference.”"

"“Jealous?” she said. “Of what you have to offer? A second-rate Consul and a third-rate vaudeville act peddling fourth-rate advice to a fifth-rate Novice?”"

"“You need to delay the train.” “How do I do that?” “Your head on the rails?” “Seriously?” “I don’t know. But put it this way: if you don’t delay the train, I will punch you five times hard in the head.” “Once would probably be enough as a punishment.” “You don’t need to be punished, you need motivating. And not getting punched five times is a terrific motivator. Take my word for it.”"

"Like any other big government department, it looks good on paper but is an utter shambles. Petty infighting and political agendas, arrogance and sheer bloody-mindedness almost guarantees that the left hand doesn’t know what the right is doing."

"“It was a coincidence.” “I don’t believe in coincidences.” “Neither do I. That’s a coincidence, isn’t it?”"

"Don’t ever call me mad, Mycroft. I’m not mad. I’m just...well, differently moraled, that’s all."

"“James Crometty!” demanded Bowden. “Did you kill him?” “I kill a lot of people,” whispered Felix7. “I don’t remember names.” “You shot him six times in the face.” The dying killer smiled. “That I remember.” “Six times! Why?” Felix7 frowned and started to shiver. “Six was all I had,” he answered simply."

"“Haven’t I seen your face somewhere else?” “No, it’s always been right here on the front of my head.”"