Dimple Whalan

“It's only just beginning to occur to me that it's important to have something going on somewhere, at work or at home, otherwise you're just clinging on. [...] You need as much ballast as possible to stop you floating away; you need people around you, things going on, otherwise life is like some film where the money ran out, and there are no sets, or locations, or supporting actors, and it's just one guy on his own staring into the camera with nothing to do and nobody to speak to, and who'd believe in this character then? I've got to get more stuff, more clutter, more detail in here, because at the moment I'm in danger of falling off the edge.”
― Nick Hornby, High Fidelity

“...and that bastard Breckinridge Scott, yes, the Phalanx king, still hiding like a rat in his Antarctic Fortress of Scumditude.
--Arthur Sinclair”
― Max Brooks, World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War

“Signora, il suo amore era talmente ardente che avrei potuto ricambiarlo solo facendo di lei mia moglie o la mia amante. Io non accettai ma, per il grande amore che mi portava, le offrii mille lire sterline di rendita all'anno per lei e per i suoi eredi se avesse sposato un cavaliere di suo gradimento. Signora, non mi piace essere obbligato ad amare; l'amore deve nascere dal cuore, non dalla costrizione.”
― Thomas Malory, Storia di re Artù e dei suoi cavalieri

“Ove glares out of the window. The poser is jogging. Not that Ove is provoked by jogging. Not at all. Ove couldn’t give a damn about people jogging. What he can’t understand is why they have to make such a big thing of it. With those smug smiles on their faces, as if they were out there curing pulmonary emphysema. Either they walk fast or they run slowly, that’s what joggers do. It’s a forty-year-old man’s way of telling the world that he can’t do anything right. Is it really necessary to dress up as a fourteen-year-old Romanian gymnast in order to be able to do it? Or the Olympic tobogganing team? Just because one shuffles aimlessly around the block for three quarters of an hour?”
― Fredrik Backman, A Man Called Ove