307 Quotes by Alan Bradley

Good morning, Flavia,” she said at last, but her acknowledgment of my presence came too late for my liking.

If you remember nothing else, remember this: Inspiration from outside one’s self is like the heat in an oven. It makes passable Bath buns. But inspiration from within is like a volcano: It changes the face of the world.

Die, witch,” I managed, making a cross of my forefingers.

It was like a bit of flypaper stuck to your finger that you couldn’t shake off. The bloody thing clung to life like a limpet.

Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. Hebrews 13:2.

IT WAS ONE OF those glorious days in March when the air was so fresh that you worshipped every whiff of it; that each breath of the intoxicating stuff created such new universes in your lungs and brain you were certain you were about to explode with sheer joy; one of those blustery days of scudding clouds and piddling showers and gum boots and wind-blown brollies that made you know you were truly alive.

There is genuine joy in being alone in the dark inside your own head with no outside distractions, where you can scramble from ledge to rocky ledge, hallooing happily in a vast, echoing cave; climbing hand over hand from ledge to ledge of facts and memories, picking up old gems and new: examining, comparing, putting them down again and reaching for the next.

Memories, I was coming to realize, can be sharper than daggers.

I gave her a partial smile and kept the rest of it for myself...