“An ugly man, with a face sharp like a weasel and a habit of running a flickering tongue over his lips before he speaks. But most ugly of all are his eyes: blue, bright blue. When people see them, they flinch. Such things are freakish. He is lucky he was not killed at birth.”
“Read this to yourself. Read it silently.
Don’t move your lips. Don’t make a sound.
Listen to yourself. Listen without hearing anything.
What a wonderfully weird thing, huh?”
“His first theory was that if human beings didn’t keep exercising their lips, their mouths probably shriveled up.
After a few months of observation he had come up with a second theory, which was this--“If human beings don’t keep exercising their lips, their brains start working.”
“The word no, so short, so easy to say, a child’s sound, a noise more than a word, a short exhalation of air: all he had to do was part his lips, and the word would come out, and—and what?”
“I have no use for divine patience -
My lips are now burning and everywhere.
I am running from every corner of this earth and sky
Wanting to kiss you.”
“Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was white as leprosy,
The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she,
Who thicks man’s blood with cold.”
“Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was white as leprosy,
The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she,
Who thicks man’s blood with cold.”
“She turned her back and put the water on to boil. But not before I got a glimpse of her lips tightening. An ugly grimace. My sugar-and-spice grandmother with such a nasty look. I feel guilty. But I couldn’t ask, Nanna, do you and Mamma hate each other? How could I say such a thing?”
“Once more he stepped into the street and to his lips again laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane. Before he blew three notes (so sweet and soft, and yet so cunning), there was a rustling that seemed like a bustling of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling. Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, little hands clapping and little tongues chattering, and, like fowls on a farm when barley is scattering, out came the children running.”
“His odd coat from heel to head was half of yellow and half of red, and he himself was tall and thin, with sharp blue eyes, each like a pin, and light loose hair, yet swarthy skin, no tuft on cheek nor beard on chin, but lips where smiles went out and in: there was no guessing his origin.”
“Into the streets the Piper stepped, smiling first a little smile, as if he knew what magic slept in his still pipe all the while, for there his secret spells were kept. Then blowing soft, his lips he wrinkled, and green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled like candle flames where salt is sprinkled.”
“When a golden girl can win
Prayer from out the lips of sin,
When the barren almond bears,
And a little child gives away its tears,
Then shall all the house be still
And peace comes to Canterville.”