More royal courtiers died from drowning than through fighting for the crown

The relatively rudimentary nature of medieval ship and sail design also meant that seafarers routinely found themselves at the mercy of the elements, praying for calm seas and favourable winds. Shipwrecks were alarmingly common - indeed, it has been estimated that, in the mid-twelfth century, more royal courtiers died from drowning than through fighting for the crown - so few made this journey without a degree of trepidation.

T. Asbridge, The greatest knight: the remarkable life of William Marshal, the power behind five English thrones (2015), 35

Modern hymns are awful. I don't know why they bothered.

As with the Bible and the Book of Common Prayer, you do not have to be a Christian, or even a believer, to appreciate and be uplifted by hearing a church full of people singing something out of Hymns Ancient and Modern. Modern hymns are awful. I don't know why they bothered. If they felt the words were outdated, and so of limited appeal to the young, it would not have been beyond the wit of an Anglican subcommittee to write new ones to the old tunes. But no, baby went out with the bathwater and we got slush and soup and sentimentality.

S. Hill, Jacob's room is full of books (2017), 207

That is what time does to literature

It is seventy plus years since those days through which we live in the two war [Balkan and Levant] trilogies. Olivia Manning died in 1980. I wonder if it matters how much she wrote out of her own direct experience and how much she created from her imagination - 'made up'.

Does it ever matter? Only at the time, perhaps. A decade, or half a century later, it is all one. The books stand or fall by themselves. That is what time does to literature. And these novels stand. They come up fresh every re-reading.

S. Hill, Jacob's room is full of books (2017), 168

Literature was born when a boy came crying wolf, wolf and there was no wolf behind him

He [Nabokov] has a point, and the point makes me think, but it does not give me the lightening flash of illumination that this does, a page or two later: 'Literature was born, not on the day a boy came crying wolf, wolf out of the Neanderthal valley with a big gray wolf at his heels: literature was born when a boy came crying wolf, wolf and there was no wolf behind him.'

S. Hill, Jacob's room is full of books (2017), 145
She is citing here Nabokov's Lectures on literature, which I now want to read

A system that either physically eliminated the brightest and most dedicated or forced them to lay waste to the best in themselves

Farideh and Mina were polar opposites when it came to politics - one was a dedicated Marxist and the other a determined monarchist. What they shared was their unconditional hatred for the present regime. When I think of how their talents were wasted, my resentment grows for a system that either physically eliminated the brightest and most dedicated or forced them to lay waste to the best in themselves, transforming them into ardent revolutionaries, like Farideh , or hermits, like Mina and my magician. They withdrew and simmered in their dashed dreams.

A. Nafisi, Reading Lolita in Iran (2003), 204

Their messiness disappears and they gain a certain logic and clarity that one never feels at the time

In retrospect, when historical events are gathered up, analyzed and categorized into articles and books, their messiness disappears and they gain a certain logic and clarity that one never feels at the time. For me, as for millions of ordinary Iranians, the war came out of nowhere one mild fall morning: unexpected, unwelcome and utterly senseless.

A. Nafisi, Reading Lolita in Tehran (2003), 157

Say what you like about civilization, it comes in dashed handy in a crisis like this

Fortunately, the thing did not go beyond looks. Say what you like about civilization, it comes in dashed handy in a crisis like this. It may be a purely artificial code that keeps a father from hoofing his daughter's kisser when there are fellow guests at a house but at that moment I felt I could do with all the purely artificial codes that were going.

P.G. Wodehouse, Thank you, Jeeves (1934), 61

There are such things, I would have you remember, Voules, as strong letters to The Times

'Voules,' I was preparing to say, 'enough is enough. This police persecution must stop. It is monstrous and uncalled-for. We are not in Russia, Voules. There are such things, I would have you remember, Voules, as strong letters to The Times.' 

P.G. Wodehouse, Thank you, Jeeves (1934), 117

Asking for a martini today is merely a socially acceptable way of asking for a bottle of gin

You have to work hard to get away from the fact that asking for a martini today is merely a socially acceptable way of asking for a bottle of gin - hold the brown paper bag - and could it come direct from the freezer, rather than its hiding place in the corner of the wardrobe, please? And drinking virtually neat gin is an act that tends to be frowned upon otherwise in most middle-class circles. 

V. Moore, How to drink (2009), 284

We have a very big sharp knife

The Poire William tasted so precisely of the fruit it was made from you could almost feel the sweetness and textured scrape of the coarse pear flesh dragging across your tongue, so that it was a surprise to find only liquid in your mouth. The Goutte de Reine Claude Doree Passerillee (greengage) also yielded an incredible clarity of flavour. 'We take all the stones out of the fruit by hand,' explained the producer when I commented on this. 'All 300,000 of them. We do everything by hand so as to avoid bitter or dirty tastes. The quince are the toughest to deal with because they are very hard, but we have a very big sharp knife.'

V. Moore, How to drink (2009), 200

No, sir, those are the wrong type of glasses

Nonetheless I reserve great respect for sticklers like the head waiter at the Taj Mahal in Mumbai, who refused to let standards slip during the terrorist siege in November 2008. As one guest-hostage who had been holed up in the restaurant while explosions shook the building later reported. 'Come 5 a.m. we were confident the police were going to get us out, so I marched over to the bar and found a bottle of vintage Cristal, opened it and began pouring. Then the head waiter came rushing across and said, "No, no, you can't do that!" And I said, "Well, we're going to!" and he said, "No, sir, those are the wrong type of glasses." ' Quite so.

V. Moore, How to drink (2009), 48