Eloise

skipperdee

“I always go into the Persian Room after 4 to see my friend Bill
He is a busboy in the night and goes to school in the day and
his eyes water
Here’s where he’s been
Madrid
Here’s where I’ve been
Boiler Room”

— From Eloise (1955) by Kay Thompson with drawings by Hilary Knight

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Drinking Ink

India Ink

“It was little Michael Master who detected, first of all,
That his great enormous father was becoming very small;
Now I never knew the reason, but I fancy that he shrank
Because of all the Indian ink that Mr. Master drank.”

— From The Little Father by Gelett Burgess, first published in 1899; this image from the edition published in 1985 with illustrations by Richard Egielski.

Sage Advice

“Mrs. Sin, aroused by her husband from the deep opium sleep, came out into the fume-laden vault. Her dyed hair was disarranged, and her dark eyes stared glassily before her; but even in this half-drugged state she bore herself with the lithe carriage of a dancer, swinging her hips lazily and pointing the toes of her high-heeled slippers.

“‘Awake, my wife,’ crooned Sin Sin Wa. ‘Only a fool seeks the black smoke when the jackals sit in a ring.'”

— From Dope (1919) by Sax Rohmer

Puppy

Lastex

“She was wearing a blue Lastex swimsuit, which was like a dress and showed off her legs, which looked lovely to me. I was trying to keep my eyes on her face as she talked, but it was difficult when all I wanted to do was lay my muzzle on her lap and have her play with my ears and pull my tail.”

— The voice of Bernie Gunther in Prague Fatale (2011) by Philip Kerr

 

On the Rug

Dogs

“They brought me in to a white-bearded bald old fellow who was lying on a worn Turkoman carpet in front of a half-dead fire. He had a book beside him, a catalogue of his railroad bridges, and he held a pen between his toes. He used his magnificent, sleepy, burgundy-and-gold-colored hunting dogs… as pillows and rugs.”

Swan Lake (1989), text by Mark Helprin and illustrations by Chris Van Allsburg

The Lost World

lost

“The woods on either side were primeval, which are more easily penetrated than woods of the second growth… How shall I ever forget the solemn mystery of it? The height of the trees and the thickness of the boles exceeded anything which I in my town-bred life could have imagined, shooting upwards in magnificent columns until, at an enormous distance above our heads, we could dimly discern the spot where they threw out their side-branches into Gothic upward curves which coalesced to form one great matted roof of verdure, through which only an occasional golden ray of sunshine shot downwards to trace a thin dazzling line of light, amidst the majestic obscurity. As we walked noiselessly amid the thick, soft carpet of decaying vegetation the hush fell upon our souls which comes upon us in the twilight of the Abbey…”

— From The Lost World (1912) by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; illustration by Harry Rountree