Lizzie

“God bless busybody community matriarchs, and all that sail in them.”
― Ben Aaronovitch, Broken Homes

“Without moving he gave a short whistle. The dog lying so quiet beside him was away like smoke, almost too fast for Macdonald's unaccustomed eyes to follow it. Keeping perfectly still, whistling different notes and occasionally calling words which were unintelligible to Macdonald, Tegg's old eyes followed the dog's progress up the fell as it ran in a wide circle. From nowhere the sheep appeared, bleating and lamenting: at first scattered, running here and there, backward and forward, but gradually being driven into a compact flock as the indefatigable dog ran round them in decreasing circles. Then, after a longer whistle, the dog brought them down to within a few yards of the shepherd and Tegg changed his note again and raised his arms. Slowly, with uncanny skill, the dog edged the bunch forward, allowing none to break away, and drove them in at the shippon door until the small building was packed tight with the ewes and lambs, and the dog sat down panting, on guard beside the door, and Macdonald could have sworn there was a smirk of pride and pleasure on the collie's face.”
― Lorac. E C R.

“That which does not kill us,” I said, “has to get up extra early in the morning if it wants to get us next time.”
― Ben Aaronovitch, Broken Homes

“I done me best when I was let. Thinking always if I go all goes. A hundred cares, a tithe of troubles and is there one who understands me? One in a thousand of years of the nights? All me life I have been lived among them but now they are becoming lothed to me. And I am lothing their little warm tricks. And lothing their mean cosy turns. And all the greedy gushes out through their small souls. And all the lazy leaks down over their brash bodies. How small it's all! And me letting on to meself always. And lilting on all the time.”
― James Joyce, Finnegans Wake