Best 11 quotes of Jedediah Berry on MyQuotes

Jedediah Berry

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    Jedediah Berry

    A train will bring you back to the place you came from, but it will not return you home.

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    Jedediah Berry

    If you are not setting a trap, then you are probably walking into one. It is the mark of the master to do both at once.

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    Jedediah Berry

    I was to be buried inside my own creation, the better to keep its secrets. I will not tell you more, for your sake. But if you ask, I will answer.

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    Jedediah Berry

    Love is the same as being lost,' says Jacques to the dark. 'Except you don't care that you're lost.

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    Jedediah Berry

    She was beautiful, in the quiet way that lonely, unnoticed people are beautiful to those who notice them.

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    Jedediah Berry

    The world is unkind to the shoeless and frolicsome.

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    Jedediah Berry

    Woe to he who checkmates his opponents at last, only to discover they have been playing cribbage.

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    Jedediah Berry

    At home he went about in his socks. That way he could avoid disturbing the neighbors and also indulge in the occasional shoeless swoop across the room, as when one is preparing a breakfast of oatmeal and the oatmeal wants raisins and brown sugar, which are in the cupboard at the other end of the room. To glide with sock-swaddled feet over a world of glossy planes: that would be a wondrous thing! But Unwin’s apartment was smallish at best, and the world is unkind to the shoeless and frolicsome.

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    Jedediah Berry

    His mind lingered for a time in the hinterlands of sleep, words drifting over the border as though on a warm wind, unfastened from their meanings.

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    Jedediah Berry

    To the modern detective, truth is rarely its own reward; usually it is its own punishment. And if you cannot track mystery to the back of its ugly cave, then be content to stand at the edge of the dark and call it by name.

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    Jedediah Berry

    Unwin was tired, too. He had worn himself down—to nothing, nearly—with his cuts and corrections, his erasures and emendations. He was awake now, but was there still time for him? His mind had wearied of its appointed rounds, of the stream of typescript and transcript, and now he wondered what might have been different, what might still be different, if only the day would hold and not abandon him to sleep.