Ben Aaronovitch Quotes
The media response to unusual weather is as ritualized and predictable as the stages of grief. First comes denial: "I can't believe there's so much snow." Then anger: "Why can't I drive my car, why are the trains not running?" Then blame: "Why haven't the local authorities sanded the roads, where are the snowplows, and how come the Canadians can deal with this and we can't?" This last stage goes on the longest and tends to trail off into a mumbled grumbling moan, enlivened by occasional ILLEGALS ATE MY SNOWPLOW headlines from the *Daily Mail....*
Quotes to Explore
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I just heard the latest joke about my hair: 'Do you know what that is on her head? It's a steering wheel to drive the state.'
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For me, my writing benefits from my experience.
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The end of secrecy would be the end of the novel - especially the English novel. The English novel requires social secrecy, personal secrecy.
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Don't limit your audience.
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I get to meet different directors and different people.
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I think the phrase that resonates from 'Just One Year' is something I sort of live by: 'The truth and its opposite are flip sides of the same coin.'
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To survive is to win.
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Yes, the marriage proposal was shot. Michael excluded the dialogue from the final edit.
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My last two years of high school, I think I went to Burger King every day for lunch.
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The only way you get that fat off is to eat less and exercise more.
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I don't think nobody's doubting I can play basketball.
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I looked up at several pockmarks in the nearest wall; if they weren’t bullet holes, the place had damned big hailstones.
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True ignorance is not the absence of knowledge, but the refusal to acquire it.
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A dead tree, cut into planks and read from one end to the other, is a kind of line graph, with dates down one side and height along the other, as if trees, like mathematicians, had found a way of turning time into form.
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Laughter, and the broader category of humor, are key elements in helping us go on with our life after a loss.
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'I Know. I Know! Let's Go Potholing! In Croatia!' 'Fine. I know a guy who can give us a lift... Me!'
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The misery of a child is interesting to a mother, the misery of a young man is interesting to a young woman, the misery of an old man is interesting to nobody.
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Paper is the strongest material in the world. Things under which a mountain will crumble, you can place on paper and it will hold: beauty at its most intense; love at its fiercest; the greatest grief; the greatest rage.
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At the moment you are no longer an observing, reflecting being; you have ceased to be aware of yourself; you exist only in that quiet, steady thrill that is so unlike any excitement that you have ever known.
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The BBC is very much in thrall to all this techno cross-fertilisation, in much the same way that print journalists are now encouraged to blog. To the point where there is an emerging breed of sub-editors who take perfectly well-written and punctuated original copy and rewrite it so that it resembles a text message written by a 14-year-old under the influence of Bacardi Breezers.
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The media response to unusual weather is as ritualized and predictable as the stages of grief. First comes denial: "I can't believe there's so much snow." Then anger: "Why can't I drive my car, why are the trains not running?" Then blame: "Why haven't the local authorities sanded the roads, where are the snowplows, and how come the Canadians can deal with this and we can't?" This last stage goes on the longest and tends to trail off into a mumbled grumbling moan, enlivened by occasional ILLEGALS ATE MY SNOWPLOW headlines from the *Daily Mail....*
