45 Quotes by Ngaio Marsh

Ngaio Marsh Quotes By Tag


  • Author Ngaio Marsh
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    We do not wait for inspiration. We work because we've jolly well got to. But when all is said and done, we toil at this particular job because it's turned out to be our particular job, and in a weird sort of way I suppose we may be said to like it.

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  • Author Ngaio Marsh
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    You may be able to write a novel, you may not. You will never know until you have worked very hard indeed and written at least part of it. You will never really know until you have written the whole of it and submitted it for publication.

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  • Author Ngaio Marsh
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    Why do you want to become an author? I will accept only one answer. If it is because you feel you can write better than you can do anything else then go ahead and do it without frills and flourishes. Stick to your present job and write in your spare time: but do it as if it is a whole time job.

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  • Author Ngaio Marsh
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    You must be able to write. You must have a sense of form, of pattern, of design. You must have a respect for and a mastery over words.

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  • Author Ngaio Marsh
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    They were fortified with all the resilience that youth presents to an emotional shock. In the midst of murder and attempted suicide, they had managed, not only to behave with address and good sense, but all to fall in love with each other.

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  • Author Ngaio Marsh
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    What do you think, Mr Alleyn? If there's another war will the young chaps come at it, same as we did, thinking it's great? And get the same jolt? What do you reckon?""I'm afraid to speculate," said Alleyn.

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  • Author Ngaio Marsh
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    It's like one of those affairs in books," said Bailey disgustedly."Someone trying to think up a new way to do a murder. Silly, I call it.""What do you say, Roper?" said Alleyn."To my way of thinking, sir," said Sergeant Roper, "these thrillers are ruining our criminal classes.

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  • Author Ngaio Marsh
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    The merciless scent of flowers was so heavy here that it hung like mist on the cold air. The room was crowded with flowers. In the centre, on three shrouded trestles, Robert Gospell’s body lay in its coffin.

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