Top 100 Robert Galbraith Quotes
#2. If you want life-long friendship and selfless camaraderie, join the army and learn to kill.
If you want a lifetime of temporary alliances with peers who will glory in your every failure, write novels.
- Robert Galbraith (J.K. Rowling)
The Silkworm
J.K. Rowling
#3. Memories like shrapnel, forever embedded, infected by what had come later ... words of love and undying devotion, times of sublime happiness, lies upon lies upon lies ... his attention kept sliding away from the stories he was reading.
Robert Galbraith
#4. [He] looked as thought he had been carved out of soft ebony by a master hand that had grown bored with its own expertise, and started to veer towards the grotesque.
Robert Galbraith
#5. ... I to you will open The book of a black sin, deep printed in me. ... my disease lies in my soul. Thomas Dekker, The Noble Spanish Soldier
Robert Galbraith
#6. In a way, an explanation had never been the point. She had simply liked being the only one who wanted to find out the truth.
Robert Galbraith
#7. You're like everyone else, Strike; you want your civil liberties when you've told the missus you're at the office and you're at a lap-dancing club, but you want twenty-four-hour surveillance on your house when someone's trying to force your bathroom window open. Can't have it both ways.
Robert Galbraith
#8. In days and he was too late to pick up the trail at her home station. The best he could do was to lurk around the
Robert Galbraith
#9. Like most writers, I tend to find out what I feel on a subject by writing about it. It is how we interpret the world, how we make sense of it.
Robert Galbraith
#10. She looked away from him, drawing hard on her Rothman's; when her mouth puckered into hard little lines around the cigarette, it looked like a cat's anus.
Robert Galbraith
#11. Shoveling food into his mouth. Thoughts came fluently, cogently:
Robert Galbraith
#12. Frankly, anybody who's going to kill themselves because of a bad review has no business writing a novel in the first place.
Robert Galbraith
#13. ...the safest way of ensuring that secret information did not leak was not to tell anybody about it.
Robert Galbraith
#15. Optimumque est, ut volgo dixere, aliena insania frui. And the best plan is, as the popular saying was, to profit by the folly of others. Pliny the Elder, Historia Naturalis
Robert Galbraith
#16. Im.' The monosyllable was heavy with contempt. 'E's a twat.'
'Is he?'
'Yeah, 'e is. Ask Kieran.'
She gave the impression that she and Kieran stood together, sane, dispassionate observers of the idiots populating Lula's world.
Robert Galbraith
#17. Strike registered the pronounced asymmetry of his pale blue eyes, one of which was a good centimeter higher than the other. It gave him an oddly vulnerable look, as though he had been finished in a hurry.
Robert Galbraith
#18. it was weird. Would you believe it if some supermodel called you up and told you she was your sister?'
Strike thought of his own bizarre family history.
'Probably,' he said.
Robert Galbraith
#20. The women fell silent with the instinctive courtesy women often show to incapacitated males.
Robert Galbraith
#21. Perhaps she had received diamonds, Strike thought; she had always said she didn't care for such things, but when they argued the glitter of all he could not give her had sometimes been flung back hard in his face ...
Robert Galbraith
#22. There's people who'd expect you to take a bullet for them and they don't bother rememb'ring yuh name.
Robert Galbraith
#23. Good though his eyesight was, however, he would have been unlikely to spot the Stanley knife being turned rhythmically between long, fine fingers.
Robert Galbraith
#25. Strike felt abnormally huge and hairy; a woolly mammoth attempting to blend in among capuchin monkeys.
Robert Galbraith
#26. Many lonely people, Strike knew, found it pleasant to be the focus of somebody's undivided attention and sought to prolong the novel experience.
Robert Galbraith
#27. Oh," said Tansy.
The monosyllable contained equal parts of surprise and disdain.
Robert Galbraith
#28. And then, at last, the frenzy wore itself into staleness, and even the journalist had nothing left to say, but that too much had been said already.
Robert Galbraith
#29. Kairos moment. An' it means," and from somewhere in his soused brain he dredged up words of surprising clarity, "the telling moment. The special moment. The supreme moment.
Robert Galbraith
#30. The whole world's writing novels, but nobody's reading them.
Robert Galbraith
#31. Suicides, in his experience, were perfectly capable of feigning an interest in a future they had no intention of inhabiting.
Robert Galbraith
#32. It was difficult for him to decide whether she was sincere, or performing her own character; her beauty got in the way, like a thick cobweb through which it was difficult to see her clearly.
Robert Galbraith
#34. Handsome in the manner of an Aryan prince, possessor of a trust fund, born to fulfill a preordained place in his family and the world; a man with all the confidence twelve generations of well-documented lineage can give.
Robert Galbraith
#35. You ought to give up detecting and try fantasy writing, Strike
Robert Galbraith
#36. He wondered fleetingly how many people who sat alone for hours as they scribbled their stories practiced talking about their work during their coffee breaks ...
Robert Galbraith
#37. Ridiculous," he said breathlessly. "You ought to give up detecting and try fantasy writing.
Robert Galbraith
#39. A vast unfocused rage rose in her, against men who considered displays of emotion a delicious open door; men who ogled your breasts under the pretense of scanning the wine shelves; men for whom your mere physical presence constituted a lubricious invitation. Her
Robert Galbraith
#40. The act of shopping for what he needed, and of setting up the bare necessities for himself, had lulled Strike back into the familiar soldierly state of doing what needed to be done, without question or complaint.
Robert Galbraith
#42. so he sat smoking on the sofa with the lower trouser leg hanging empty towards the floor, lost in thought.
Robert Galbraith
#43. She couldn't understand a vocation. Some people can't; at best, work's about status and pay cheques for them, it hasn't got value in itself.
Robert Galbraith
#44. He had hoped to spot the flickering shadow of a murderer as he turned the file's pages, but instead it was the ghost of Lula herself who emerged, gazing up at him, as victims of violent crimes sometimes did, through the detritus of their interrupted lives.
Robert Galbraith
#46. Nobody enjoys accepting that they have reaped what they have sown.
Robert Galbraith
#47. The detective seemed to remember reading that advertisers used Scottish accents to suggest integrity and honesty. The
Robert Galbraith
#48. You could find beauty nearly anywhere if you stopped to look for it, but the battle to get through the days made it easy to forget that this totally cost-free luxury existed.
Robert Galbraith
#49. The model? Whoa.' But Spanner's interest in human beings, even when dead or famous, was still secondary to his fondness for rare comics, technological innovation, and bands of which Strike had never heard.
Robert Galbraith
#50. Those who did not know the ocean well forgot its solidity, its brutality.
Robert Galbraith
#52. Writers are a savage breed, Mr. Strike. If you want life-long friendship and selfless camaraderie, join the army and learn to kill. If you want a lifetime of temporary alliances with peers who will glory in your every failure, write novels.
Robert Galbraith
#53. Strike had recently helped several wealthy young women rid themselves of City husbands who had become much less attractive to them since the financial crash. There was something appealing about restoring a husband to a wife, for a change.
Robert Galbraith
#55. The story, like all the best stories, split like an amoeba, forming an endless series of new stories and opinion pieces and speculative articles, each spawning its own counter chorus.
Robert Galbraith
#56. She emanated that aura of grandeur that replaces sexual allure in the successful older woman.
Robert Galbraith
#57. In spite of her plainness that would have made wallflowers of other women, she radiated a great sense of self-importance.
Robert Galbraith
#58. He drank it sitting in Robin's chair, and ate half a packet of digestives,
Robert Galbraith
#59. But they had already tried, again and again and again, and always, when the first crashing wave of mutual longing subsided, the ugly wreck of the past lay revealed again, its shadow lying darkly over everything they tried to rebuild.
Robert Galbraith
#61. She thought it might be the very first time that Strike had ever given any indication that he saw her as a woman, and she silently filed away the exchange to pore over later, in solitude.
Robert Galbraith
#62. Judging by the lopsided way she was hunched, with one hand buried deep under the lapel of her coat, Strike deduced that he had saved her by grabbing a substantial part of her left breast.
Robert Galbraith
#63. Matthew kept hinting that Strike was somehow a fake. He seemed to feel that being a private detective was a far-fetched job, like astronaut or lion tamer; that real people did not do such things.
Robert Galbraith
#64. The instantaneous shift from calm to calamity. The slowing of time. Every sense suddenly wire-taut and screaming.
Robert Galbraith
#65. Sense entered into a short, violent skirmish with instinct and inclination, and was overwhelmed.
Robert Galbraith
#66. Strike set out for his office beneath a sky of dirty silver,
Robert Galbraith
#67. Robin did not know why the announcement that Strike was off to meet Elin should lower her spirits.
Robert Galbraith
#68. Fancourt can't write women,' said Nina dismissively. 'He tries but he can't do it. His women are all temper, tits and tampons.
Robert Galbraith
#69. And on the menu, it says "bill of fare". They won't use "menu", you see, because it was French.
Robert Galbraith
#70. Emma Watson in white on the cover of Vogue ("The Super Star Issue"),
Robert Galbraith
#71. Began to read a piece on how a high street chain of stores had banned Cliff Richard's Christmas songs.
Robert Galbraith
#72. Couples tended to be of roughly equivalent personal attractiveness, though of course factors such as money often seemed to secure a partner of significantly better looks than oneself.
Robert Galbraith
#73. Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas. Lucky is he who has been able to understand the causes of things Virgil, Georgics, Book 2
Robert Galbraith
#74. Strike noticed that, in spite of Duffield's air of disorientation and distress, he had made a good job of applying his eyeliner.
Robert Galbraith
#75. He had almost fallen asleep on top of Elin last night, and counted it among the week's few small achievements that he had finished the job, at least.
Robert Galbraith
#76. How could the death of someone you had never met affect you so?
Robert Galbraith
#77. Strike was becoming steadily more taciturn, his expression brooding. Robin wondered whether this was because he was hungry - he was a man who needed regular sustenance to maintain an equable mood - or for some darker reason.
Robert Galbraith
#79. Birthdays in Lucy's world were always celebrated, never forgotten: there must be cake and candles and cards and presents; time must be marked, order preserved, traditions upheld.
Robert Galbraith
#81. Writers are different," said Waldegrave. "I've never met one who was any good who wasn't screwy.
Robert Galbraith
#83. He just saw her for what she was. She was no good. Some women,' she said, her chest heaving beneath the shapeless raincoat, 'aren't.
Robert Galbraith
#84. Can I ask who you are, sir?"
"Yeah, I expect so," said Strike, walking past him and ringing the doorbell. Anstis's dinner invitation notwithstanding, he was not feeling sympathetic to the police just now. "Should be just about within your capabilities.
Robert Galbraith
#85. A marked desire to be considered more than he felt himself to be; to become endowed, in fact, with that unpredictable, dangerous and transformative quality: fame.
Robert Galbraith
#86. Ilsa looked slightly aggrieved at the news that Robin still intended to marry someone other than Strike, but before she could say anything else Strike's mobile buzzed in his pocket.
Robert Galbraith
#88. how very small London was once you reached a certain altitude; once you had left behind those who could not easily secure tables at the best restaurants and clubs. 'Couldn't
Robert Galbraith
#89. He handed her her pills and the cup; her hands trembled; he had to support the saucer and he thought, inappropriately, of a priest offering communion.
Robert Galbraith
#91. I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees; all times I have enjoy'd Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone; on shore and when Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades Vext the dim sea: I am become a name ...
Robert Galbraith
#92. He had spent much of his childhood perched on the coast, with the taste of salt in the air: this was a place of woodland and river, mysterious and secretive in a different way from St. Mawes, the little town with its long smuggling history, where colorful houses tumbled down to the beach.
Robert Galbraith
#93. Like other inveterate womanizers Strike had encountered, Duffield's voice and mannerisms were slightly camp. Perhaps such men became feminized by prolonged immersion in women's company, or perhaps it was a way of disarming their quarry.
Robert Galbraith
#94. Experience had taught Strike that there was a certain type of woman to whom he was unusually attractive. Their common characteristics were intelligence and the flickering intensity of badly wired lamps.
Robert Galbraith
#95. He's a writer," she said, as though this explained everything. "He's disappeared before?" "He's emotional," she said, her expression glum. "He's always going off on one, but it's been ten days and I know he's really upset but I need him home now.
Robert Galbraith
#97. Holly was playing the concerned relative, the devoted sister, and if it was a ham performance Robin was experienced enough, now, to know that there were usually nuggets of truth to be sifted from even the most obvious dross.
Robert Galbraith
#98. the kettle boiled in its usual crescendo of rattling lid and rambunctious bubbles, condensation steaming up the window behind it.
Robert Galbraith
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