Tuesday, December 03, 2024 Text is available under the CC BY-SA 3.0 licence.

Harry Hill

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You're probably like me, when your doorbell rings, your dog goes racing up to the door...but it's never for him, is it? "Who did you think it was going to be, one of your little friends?"

 
Harry Hill

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[After the doorbell rings, right before Secretariat appears] Who's that at the door?!

 
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"Sir Isaac Newton, renowned inventor of the milled-edge coin and the catflap!"
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She spent the afternoon staring at their front door. "Waiting for someone?" Yankel asked. "What color is this?" He stood very close to the door, letting the end of his nose touch the peephole. He licked the wood and joked, "It certainly tastes like red." "Yes, it is red, isn't it?" "Seems so." She buried her head in her hands. "But couldn’t it be just a bit more red?" (pp. 79-80)

 
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"You know that in all tombs there is always a false door?"
Renisenb stared. "Yes, of course."
"Well, people are like that too. They create a false door - to deceive. If they are conscious of weakness, of inefficiency, they make an imposing door of self-assertion, of bluster, of overwhelming authority - and, after a time, they get to believe in it themselves. They think, and everybody thinks, that they are like that. But behind that door, Renisenb, is a bare rock ... And so when reality comes and touches them with the feather of truth - their true self reasserts itself."

 
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