Best 25 quotes of Kate Griffin on MyQuotes

Always be polite to possible murderers: that was the twenty-four-hour-shopping philosophy.

A small child being dragged to bed peered curiously at me as it passed, then waved. We waved back, not being entirely sure how else to respond to small creatures like that.

But it's not healthy!” replied the Hag. “A mortal and a god sharing the same flesh?” “You know, this isn't why we're here. I can get abuse pretty much wherever.” “Yeah,” sighed the Maid, “but I bet a tenner I can make you cry in half a minute.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but paranoia was what tied it up in a sack and buried it in wet concrete.

...for life is magic, magic is life, the left-over life we don't even notice we're living.

I got dressed. You can't be Midnight Mayor in your underpants.

I looked at Judith. "This sounds strange, but I don't suppose you saw three mad women with a cauldron of boiling tea pass by this way?" "No," she replied. The polite voice of reasonable people scared of exciting the madman. "Flash of light? Puff of smoke? Erm..." I tried to find a polite way of describing the symptoms of spontaneous teleportation without using the dreaded "teleportation" word. I failed. I slumped back into the sand. What kind of mystic kept a spatial vortex at the bottom of their cauldrons of tea anyway?

I spent the day with the pigeons, on a bench in Trafalgar Square, my bag of belongings huddled to my chest in case someone thought of taking them, and a pile of breadcrumbs at my feet. I let the pigeons congregate around me ... Eventually a local warden came up to me and said , "Sir, we ask people not to feed the pigeons," with such an expression of civic determination that I pretense not to understand English. Instead, I listed my way through various "eh?" sounds until, having exhausted his two words of French and three of Spanish, he concluded that since I was neither nationality, I wasn't worth the bother.

It seems to me that the greatest triumph of any human rights movement, be it fighting for racial, religious, sexual or gender equality – is to achieve that moment where eyes are opened so wide that a sort of blindness sets in. I don’t care if someone is black, white, gay or straight. I don’t care if a woman has children or no – I just want to know who they are. [...] At the end of the day, gender differences seem to me to be just a tiny, tiny drop in the great expanse of things that make people unique. Unique, not ‘different’, not ‘other’ merely another piece of that great teaming mass that makes up the wonderfully rich, thrillingly varied definition of ‘humanity’." [Playing Butch: Blog entry, February 24, 2014]

Londoners have intense loyalties to the areas from which they come. Those born in Croydon will argue that theirs is a borough with access to the green belt, excellent shopping and wide, pleasant streets, while the rest of the city flatly knows that Croydon is a soulless hole whose only redeeming feature is the novelty of the electric tram and a large DIY store with reasonable parking. Likewise, those from Hackney would contend that their borough is vibrant and exciting, instead of crime-ridden and depressed; those from Acton would argue that their suburb is peaceful and gentle instead of soul-destroyingly dull, samey and bleak; and the people of Amersham would proclaim that their town is the ideal combination of leafy politeness and speedy transport links instead of, clearly, the absolute end of the earth. However, no one, not one mind worthy of respect, could defend Willesden Junction as anything but an utter and irredeemable dump.

Make me a shadow on the wall.

Men don't ask other men if they're getting home OK, they just assume that beneath the frail, weak exterior lurks a muscle-building kung fu master fearless of ever being mugged.

Never underestimate the ridiculous things that have been done in the name of religious-semantic obscurity.

Paranoia seems more reasonable when you've got twelve stitches in your side.

So...I suggest you try and get control over your more unusual nature, see if you can't coax those claws away, and I'll try very, very hard not to throw up over what's left of your shoes. How does that sound?

The exorcist had a slightly Australian tinge to his voice, and the laid-back, whatever-comes-next attitude of a man who had suddenly realised two degrees short of a sunstroke that exorcism was the perfect career choice he'd never been offered in school.

There was almost a flicker of humanity in the man. The kind of human who pulled wings off flies as a kid, but still human.

The van stank of cabbage and cornered like a drunken elephant. It would do.

Whatever happened next, good or bad, it would be wonderful finding out.

When last I checked, you were a sorcerer, not a Jedi." "You've seen Star Wars?" "Seen it and denounced it." "You've denounced Star Wars?" She looked me straight in the eye and said, "Hollywood should not glorify witches." "I think you've missed the point..." "I also denounce Harry Potter." "Really?" "Yes." "Because..." "...because literature, especially children's literature, should not glorify witches." "Oda, what do you do for fun?" She thought about it, then said, without a jot of humor, "I denounce things.

When we blaze, when we fight, when we rejoice, then I am all us, for that is all we are. When I am...afraid...we do not understand, do not like these things. We are me. It is...frightening, having to be me.

Where there is life, there will be magic; the one generates the other.

Whoever had said in the guidebooks that the bum bag was a sensible device against theft had lied; no single item of dressware ever invented cried out "mug me" more than a pouch of zip-up plastic suspended by your groin.

You know how it is -- you get older, you get wiser, you start to ask yourself 'is it any use being able to summon creatures of the nether deeps when I could be watching BBC 4?

You want to know a secret?" "Always." "My real name is Dave." "I see." "This doesn't seem to amuse you." "I met Jeremy the troll a few nights ago." "Seriously?" "Seriously. Also known as the Mighty Raaaarrggh! Although...I can sorta see why you changed the name. 'Dave' isn't knwon for its mysterious, mystic sexiness.