Here are this week's quotations. All identifications will be gratefully
received.
1. ...the first words of the Magnificat were built up in gold washed with
red-lac for a background to the Virgin’s hardly yet fired halo. She was
shown, hands joined in wonder, at a lattice of infinitely intricate
arabesque, round the edges of which sprays of orange bloom seemed to load
the hot blue air that carried back over the minute parched landscape in the
middle distance...
2. '...He showed me a battered and mutilated Vulgate of 1485, patched up the
back with bits of legal parchments, which he had bought for thirty-five
shillings. Some monk’s attempt to rubricate chapter initials had caught, it
seemed, his forlorn fancy, and he dabbled in shells of gold and silver paint
for weeks...'
3. ‘...Then he sets me to draft out a pair of iron gates, to take, as he
said, the taste of my naughty dolphins out of my mouth. Iron’s sweet stuff,
if you don’t torture her, and hammered work is all pure truthful line, with
a reason and a support for every curve and bar of it. A week at that settled
my stomach handsomely...’
Last week's proved rather tricky, particularly number 2, which was only
correctly identified by one person:
1. '...Before we knew where we were the dust-storm was on us, and everything
was roaring, whirling darkness... ' is from 'False Dawn' in Plain Tales from
the Hills and describes the storm which disrupted the moonlight
riding-picnic arranged by one Saumarez. He had made up his mind to propose
marriage to the elder Copleigh sister, but in the confusion of the storm
made the appalling error of proposing to her sister instead.
2. '...Do you know what fear is ? Not ordinary fear of insult, injury, or
death, but abject, quivering dread of something you cannot see ...' is from
'My Own True Ghost Story' from Wee Willie Winkie, and describes the
narrator's horror at hearing what he is sure is the whirr and click of a
ghostly billiards game taking place in the dead of night in a gloomy old
dâk-bungalow. The next morning he hears that the bungalow used to be a
billiards room, where a fat angry Sahib had dropped dead one memorable
night. But a few minutes later he finds that the whirr and click of the
'billiards game' had been made by a restless little rat running up and down
within the ceiling cloth.
3. '...In the very short pauses of the thunder I tried to sleep, but it
seemed that some one wanted me very urgently. He, whoever he was, was trying
to call me by name, but his voice was no more than a husky whisper...' is
from 'The Return of Imray' from Life's Handicap, and describes the
narrator's feelings as he struggles into sleep in a house where Imray, the
previous owner is lying dead in the roof space, with his throat cut.
Good wishes to all, John Radcliffe
PS all suggestions for quotations for this feature will be most gratefully
received.
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