Showing posts with label proud. Show all posts
Showing posts with label proud. Show all posts

Thursday, 28 March 2013

Write to the President



     ‘He is over ninety, you know,’ said Lady Helen, and Mr Franklin said, yes he knew.
     ‘One forgets, sometimes,’ said Lady Helen. ‘He doesn’t behave at all like a very old man — he remembers everything, and his brain is so alert and active. Did you know, that only fourteen years ago, he was staying at the Residency in Peking, when it was attacked in the Boxer Rising, and he took charge of the artillery belonging to your American contingent, and commanded it all through the siege? He was seventy-eight then. And when the Residency was relieved, the officer in charge of the American Marines said he would write to the President to ask for some special decoration for him, and Uncle Harry laughed and asked one of the Marines to give him his hat, and then he put it on and said: “That’ll do better than a medal,” and off he went.’ She pressed the old man’s hand, and Mr Franklin saw there were tears in her eyes. ‘We’re very proud of him, of course.’


Mr American, p.432, Pan Books, paperback edition 1982.


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Thursday, 25 February 2010

Proud as Lucifer


…he was a big, rangy Punjabi Mussulman, a veteran of Aliwal, and the frontier, proud as Lucifer of his stripes and himself, the kind of devoted ass who thinks his colonel is his father and even breaks wind by numbers.



Flashman in the Great Game, p.144, Pan edition, 4th printing, 1979.




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Thursday, 12 March 2009

Glory days



She paused for a moment, and then said in a whisper almost: ‘ “Whoever stands on British soil, shall be forever free.” It’s true isn’t it?’
   ‘Oh, absolutely,’ says I. ‘We’re the chaps, all right. Don’t hold with slavery at all, don’t you know.’
    And, strange as it may seem, sitting there with her looking at me as though I were the Second coming, well – I felt quite proud, you know. Not that I care a damn, but – well, it’s nice, when you’re far away and don’t expect it, to hear the old place well spoken of.



Flash For Freedom!, p.205, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1980.




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Sunday, 26 October 2008

Stern stuff



These royal wenches are made of stern stuff, of course; tell ’em it’s for their country’s sake and they become all proudly dutiful and think they’re Joan of Arc.



Royal Flash, p.245, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1978.




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Friday, 29 August 2008

The burdens of monarchy

Well, thinks I, they may talk about cares of State, and uneasy lies the head and all that tommy-rot, but this is the life for old Flashy. You may take my word for it, next time you hear about the burdens of monarchy, that royalty do themselves damned proud.



Royal Flash, p.143, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1978.




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