Quotes from Susan Sto Helit
... she was brilliant in the same way that a diamond is brilliant, all edges and chilliness. (SM)
Miss Butt’s mouth opened and shut. And Susan realized that the woman was actually quite short. She had a tall bearing and a tall voice and a tall manner, and was tall in every respect except height. (SM)
She got on with her education. In her opinion, school kept trying to interfere with it. (SM)
Susan hated Literature. She’d much prefer to read a good book. (SM)
The important thing, she decided, was to stay calm. There was always a logical explanation for everything, even if you had to make it up. (SM)
'Look,’ said Susan, ‘I’d just like you to know that I don’t believe any of this. I don’t believe there’s a Death of Rats in a cowl carrying a scythe.’
‘He’s standing in front of you.’
‘That’s no reason to believe it.’
‘I can see you’ve certainly had a proper education'. (SM)
Susan stared at him.
The blue glow in Death’s eyes gradually faded, and as the light died it sucked at her gaze so that it was dragged into the eye sockets and the darkness beyond...
...which went on and on, forever. There was no word for it. Even eternity was a human idea. Giving it a name gave it a length; admittedly, a very long one. But this darkness was what was left when eternity had given up. It was where Death
lived. Alone. (SM)
'... and then Jack chopped down the beanstalk, adding murder and ecological vandalism to the theft, enticement and trespass charges already mentioned, but he got away with it and lived happily ever after without so much as a guilty twinge about what he had done. Which proves that you can be excused just about anything if you’re a hero, because no one asks inconvenient questions.' (H)
‘Wherever people are obtuse and absurd ... and wherever they have, by even the most generous standards, the attention span of a small chicken in a hurricane and the investigative ability of a one-legged cockroach ... and wherever people are inanely credulous, thematically attached to the certainties of the nursery and, in general, have as much grasp of the realities of the physical universe as an oyster has of mountaineering ... yes, Twyla: there is a Hogfather. (H)
'Real children don’t go hoppity-skip unless they are on drugs.' (H)
After all, what was the point of teaching children to be children? They were naturally good at it. (H)
Education had been easy.
Learning things had been harder.
Getting an education was a bit like a communicable sexual disease. It made you unsuitable for a lot of jobs and then you had the urge to pass it on. (H)
There were lessons later on. These were going a lot better now she’d got rid of the reading books about bouncy balls and dogs called Spot. She’d got Gawain on to the military campaigns of General Tacticus, which were suitably bloodthirsty but, more importantly, considered too difficult for a child. As a result his vocabulary was doubling every week and he could already use words like ‘disembowelled’ in everyday conversation. After all, what was the point of teaching children to be children? They were naturally good at it. (H)
Silver stars weren’t awarded frequently and gold stars happened less than once a fortnight, and were vied for accordingly. Right now Miss Susan selected a silver star. Pretty soon Vincent the Keen would have a galaxy of his very own. To give him his due he was quite uninterested in which kind of star he got. Quantity, that was what he liked. Miss Susan privately marked him down as Boy Most Likely to Be Killed One Day By His Wife. (TOT)
Honestly, thought Susan, once you learn the arts of defending the Stationery Cupboard, outwitting Jason and keeping the class pet alive until the end of term, you’ve mastered at least half of teaching. (TOT)
'Questions don’t have to make sense, Vincent,’ said Miss Susan. ‘But answers do.' (TOT)
Contrary to the headmistress’s instructions, Miss Susan did not let the children do what they liked. She let them do what she liked. It turned out to be a lot more interesting for everyone. (TOT)
'Algebra?’ said Madam Frout, perforce staring at her own bosom, which no one else had ever done. ‘But that’s far too difficult for seven-year-olds!’
‘Yes, but I didn’t tell them that and so far they haven’t found out,’ said Susan. (TOT)
Susan was sensible. It was, she knew, a major character flaw. It did not make you popular, or cheerful, and– this seemed to her to be the most unfair bit – it didn’t even make you right. But it did make you definite. (TOT)
Susan did an unusual thing, and listened. That’s not an easy task for a teacher. (TOT)
Some people faded into the background. Miss Susan faded into the foreground. She stood out. Everything she stood in front of became nothing more than background. (TOT)
She could see things that were really there*…
*Which is much harder than seeing things that aren’t there. Everyone does that. (TOT)
'No one would be that stu-’
Susan stopped. Of course someone would be that stupid. Some humans would do anything to see if it was possible to do it. If you put a large switch in some cave somewhere, with a sign on it saying ‘End-of-the-World-Switch. PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH’, the paint wouldn’t even have time to dry. (TOT)
'Who are you? Time has stopped, the world is given over to…fairytales and monsters, and there’s aschoolteacher walking around?’
‘Best kind of person to have,’ said Susan. ‘We don’t like silliness. Anyway, I told you, I’ve inherited certain talents.’
‘Like living outside time?’
‘That’s one of them.’
‘It’s a weird talent for a schoolteacher!’
‘Good for marking, though,’ said Susan calmly. (TOT)
‘It makes you wonder if there is anything to astrology after all.’
‘Oh, there is,’ said Susan. ‘Delusion, wishful thinking and gullibility.' (TOT)
'The poet Hoha once dreamed he was a butterfly, and then he awoke and said, “Am I a man who dreamed he was a butterfly or am I a butterfly dreaming he is a man?”‘ said Lobsang, trying to join in.
‘Really?’ said Susan briskly. ‘And which was he?’
‘What? Well…who knows?’
‘How did he write his poems?’ said Susan.
‘With a brush, of course.’
‘He didn’t flap around making information-rich patterns in the air or laying eggs on cabbage leaves?’
‘No one ever mentioned it.’
‘Then he was probably a man,’ said Susan. (TOT)
'... because in this world, after everyone panics, there’s always got to be someone to tip the wee out of the shoe.' (TOT)
'... theyre finding out what being human really means.’
'Which is?’
‘That you’re not as much in control as you think.' (TOT)
'You don’t look insane,’ lied Susan. ‘As such.’
‘Thank you. But sanity is defined by the majority, I am afraid.' (TOT)
Miss Butt’s mouth opened and shut. And Susan realized that the woman was actually quite short. She had a tall bearing and a tall voice and a tall manner, and was tall in every respect except height. (SM)
She got on with her education. In her opinion, school kept trying to interfere with it. (SM)
Susan hated Literature. She’d much prefer to read a good book. (SM)
The important thing, she decided, was to stay calm. There was always a logical explanation for everything, even if you had to make it up. (SM)
'Look,’ said Susan, ‘I’d just like you to know that I don’t believe any of this. I don’t believe there’s a Death of Rats in a cowl carrying a scythe.’
‘He’s standing in front of you.’
‘That’s no reason to believe it.’
‘I can see you’ve certainly had a proper education'. (SM)
Susan stared at him.
The blue glow in Death’s eyes gradually faded, and as the light died it sucked at her gaze so that it was dragged into the eye sockets and the darkness beyond...
...which went on and on, forever. There was no word for it. Even eternity was a human idea. Giving it a name gave it a length; admittedly, a very long one. But this darkness was what was left when eternity had given up. It was where Death
lived. Alone. (SM)
'... and then Jack chopped down the beanstalk, adding murder and ecological vandalism to the theft, enticement and trespass charges already mentioned, but he got away with it and lived happily ever after without so much as a guilty twinge about what he had done. Which proves that you can be excused just about anything if you’re a hero, because no one asks inconvenient questions.' (H)
‘Wherever people are obtuse and absurd ... and wherever they have, by even the most generous standards, the attention span of a small chicken in a hurricane and the investigative ability of a one-legged cockroach ... and wherever people are inanely credulous, thematically attached to the certainties of the nursery and, in general, have as much grasp of the realities of the physical universe as an oyster has of mountaineering ... yes, Twyla: there is a Hogfather. (H)
'Real children don’t go hoppity-skip unless they are on drugs.' (H)
After all, what was the point of teaching children to be children? They were naturally good at it. (H)
Education had been easy.
Learning things had been harder.
Getting an education was a bit like a communicable sexual disease. It made you unsuitable for a lot of jobs and then you had the urge to pass it on. (H)
There were lessons later on. These were going a lot better now she’d got rid of the reading books about bouncy balls and dogs called Spot. She’d got Gawain on to the military campaigns of General Tacticus, which were suitably bloodthirsty but, more importantly, considered too difficult for a child. As a result his vocabulary was doubling every week and he could already use words like ‘disembowelled’ in everyday conversation. After all, what was the point of teaching children to be children? They were naturally good at it. (H)
Silver stars weren’t awarded frequently and gold stars happened less than once a fortnight, and were vied for accordingly. Right now Miss Susan selected a silver star. Pretty soon Vincent the Keen would have a galaxy of his very own. To give him his due he was quite uninterested in which kind of star he got. Quantity, that was what he liked. Miss Susan privately marked him down as Boy Most Likely to Be Killed One Day By His Wife. (TOT)
Honestly, thought Susan, once you learn the arts of defending the Stationery Cupboard, outwitting Jason and keeping the class pet alive until the end of term, you’ve mastered at least half of teaching. (TOT)
'Questions don’t have to make sense, Vincent,’ said Miss Susan. ‘But answers do.' (TOT)
Contrary to the headmistress’s instructions, Miss Susan did not let the children do what they liked. She let them do what she liked. It turned out to be a lot more interesting for everyone. (TOT)
'Algebra?’ said Madam Frout, perforce staring at her own bosom, which no one else had ever done. ‘But that’s far too difficult for seven-year-olds!’
‘Yes, but I didn’t tell them that and so far they haven’t found out,’ said Susan. (TOT)
Susan was sensible. It was, she knew, a major character flaw. It did not make you popular, or cheerful, and– this seemed to her to be the most unfair bit – it didn’t even make you right. But it did make you definite. (TOT)
Susan did an unusual thing, and listened. That’s not an easy task for a teacher. (TOT)
Some people faded into the background. Miss Susan faded into the foreground. She stood out. Everything she stood in front of became nothing more than background. (TOT)
She could see things that were really there*…
*Which is much harder than seeing things that aren’t there. Everyone does that. (TOT)
'No one would be that stu-’
Susan stopped. Of course someone would be that stupid. Some humans would do anything to see if it was possible to do it. If you put a large switch in some cave somewhere, with a sign on it saying ‘End-of-the-World-Switch. PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH’, the paint wouldn’t even have time to dry. (TOT)
'Who are you? Time has stopped, the world is given over to…fairytales and monsters, and there’s aschoolteacher walking around?’
‘Best kind of person to have,’ said Susan. ‘We don’t like silliness. Anyway, I told you, I’ve inherited certain talents.’
‘Like living outside time?’
‘That’s one of them.’
‘It’s a weird talent for a schoolteacher!’
‘Good for marking, though,’ said Susan calmly. (TOT)
‘It makes you wonder if there is anything to astrology after all.’
‘Oh, there is,’ said Susan. ‘Delusion, wishful thinking and gullibility.' (TOT)
'The poet Hoha once dreamed he was a butterfly, and then he awoke and said, “Am I a man who dreamed he was a butterfly or am I a butterfly dreaming he is a man?”‘ said Lobsang, trying to join in.
‘Really?’ said Susan briskly. ‘And which was he?’
‘What? Well…who knows?’
‘How did he write his poems?’ said Susan.
‘With a brush, of course.’
‘He didn’t flap around making information-rich patterns in the air or laying eggs on cabbage leaves?’
‘No one ever mentioned it.’
‘Then he was probably a man,’ said Susan. (TOT)
'... because in this world, after everyone panics, there’s always got to be someone to tip the wee out of the shoe.' (TOT)
'... theyre finding out what being human really means.’
'Which is?’
‘That you’re not as much in control as you think.' (TOT)
'You don’t look insane,’ lied Susan. ‘As such.’
‘Thank you. But sanity is defined by the majority, I am afraid.' (TOT)