Paul Weiss

“May I offer some refreshment?" Miss Pink asked, mincingly. "A cup of tea?"
Lady Lydiard shook her head.
"A glass of water?"
Lady Lydiard declined the last hospitable proposal with an exclamation of disgust. "Have you got any beer?" she inquired.
"I beg your Ladyship's pardon," said Miss Pink, doubting the evidence of her own ears. "Did you say - beer?"
Lady Lydiard gesticulated vehemently with her fan. "Yes, to be sure! Beer! beer!"
Miss Pink rose, with a countenance expressive of genteel disgust, and rang the bell. "I think you have beer downstairs, Susan?" she said, when the maid appeared at the door.
"Yes, Miss."
"A glass of beer for Lady Lydiard," said Miss Pink, under protest.
"Bring it in a jug," shouted her Ladyship, as the maid left the room.”
― Wilkie Collins, My Lady's Money

“She had Pagan eyes, full of nocturnal mysteries . . . Assuming that the souls of men and women were visible essences, you could fancy the colour of Eustacia's soul to be flame-like.”
― Thomas Hardy, The Return of the Native

“Perhaps it would be a good idea if everyone just stopped writing for a couple of years and allowed readers to catch up.”
― John Boyne, A Ladder to the Sky

“Todos nosotros, cada uno, somos nuestras obras; al final de nuestras vidas presentamos nuestra alma a nuestro patrón como un artesano presenta el trabajo de sus manos.”
― Lois McMaster, Paladín de almas