Push out a bayonet. If it strikes fat, push deeper. If it strikes iron, pull back for another day.
Robert HarrisStichwörter: archangel robert-harris
You can't make sense of the present unless a part of you lives in the past.
Robert HarrisStichwörter: archangel robert-harris
... he tried to visualise her apartment, but he couldn't do it, he didn't know enough about her.
Robert HarrisStichwörter: archangel robert-harris
History wasn't made without taking risks, that much he knew. So maybe sometimes you had to take risks to write it, too?
Robert HarrisStichwörter: archangel robert-harris
Time. Now here is a peculiar commodity, boy. The measurement of time. Best accomplished, obviously, with a watch. But, lacking a watch, a man may use instead the ebb and flow of light and dark. Lacking, however, a window through which to see such movement, the reliance must be devolved upon some inner mechanism of the mind. But if the mind has received a shock, the mechanism is disturbed, and time becomes as the ground is to a drunkard, variable.
Robert HarrisStichwörter: archangel robert-harris
A dog looks up to you, a cat looks down on you, but a pig looks you straight in the eye.
Robert HarrisStichwörter: archangel robert-harris
It was an unnatural time to be awake, ... It meant nothing good. He associated it with emergency, bereavement, conspiracy, flight; the sad skulk away at the end of a one-night affair.
Robert HarrisStichwörter: robert-harris
What she needed was someone who would take her for the whole night. Someone decent and respectable, with an apartment of his own. But how could you ever judge what men were really like? It was the young ones with the swaggering walks and the loud mouths who ended up bursting into tears and showing you pictures of their girlfriends. It was the bespectacled bankers and lawyers who liked to knock you around.
Robert HarrisStichwörter: archangel robert-harris
She didn't say goodbye. She set off up the street, dodging the pedestrians, walking fast. He watched her, waiting to see if she might look back. But of course she didn't. He knew she wouldn't. She wasn't the looking-back kind.
Robert HarrisStichwörter: archangel robert-harris
In the concealed darkness of the bag her fingers began to work her rosary, clumsily at first but with increasing dexterity - Push. Click. Slide. Press -
Robert HarrisStichwörter: archangel robert-harris
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