Quotes From "Titus Groan" By Mervyn Peake

It was not often that Flay approved of happiness in others. He saw in happiness the seeds of independence, and in independence the seeds of revolt. But on an occasion such as this it was different, for the spirit of convention was being rigorously adhered to, and in between his ribs Mr. Flay experienced twinges of pleasure. Mervyn Peake

Steerpike of the Many Problems, ” said the Doctor. “What did you say they were? My memory is so very untrustworthy. It’s as fickle as a fox. Ask me to name the third lateral bloodvessel from the extremity of my index finger that runs east to west when I lie on my face at sundown, or the percentage of chalk to be found in the knuckles of an average spinster in her fifty-seventh year, ha, ha, ha! — or even ask me, my dear boy, to give details of the pulse rate of frogs two minutes before they die of scabies — these things are no tax upon my memory, ha, ha, ha! But ask me to remember exactly what you said you problems were, a minute ago, and you will find that my memory has forsaken me utterly. Now why is that, my dear Master Steerpike, why is that?”“ Because I never mentioned them, ” said Steerpike.“That accounts for it, ” said Prunesquallor. “That, no doubt, accounts for it. Mervyn Peake

Why break the heart that never beat from love? Mervyn Peake

From daybreak to sunset she turned her thoughts, like boulders, over. She set them in long lines. She rearranged their order... Mervyn Peake

Lingering is so very lonely when one lingers all alone. Mervyn Peake

How's the blood-stream, my dear, invaluable little woman? How's the blood-stream?"..." It's quite comfortable, sir... I think, sir, thank yo Mervyn Peake

His was not the hatred that arises suddenly like a storm and as suddenly abates. It was, once the initial shock of anger and pain was over, a calculated thing that grew in a bloodless way. Mervyn Peake

And now, my poor old woman, why are you crying so bitterly? It is autumn. The leaves are falling from the trees like burning tears- the wind howls. Why must you mimic them? Mervyn Peake

What is Time, O sister of similar features, that you speak of it so subserviently? Are we to be the slaves of the sun, that secondhand overrated knob of gilt, or of his sister, that fatuous circle of silver paper? A curse upon their ridiculous dictatorship! Mervyn Peake

In the presence of real tragedy you feel neither pain nor joy nor hatred, only a sense of enormous space and time suspended, the great doors open to black eternity, the rising across the terrible field of that last enormous, unanswerable question. Mervyn Peake