Mon Dieu !, p. 70 :
What god would be hanging around Terminal Two of Heathrow Airport trying to catch the 15.37 flight to Oslo?
Une « infiltration de jaune », p. 97 :
The device also functioned as an ordinary calculator, but only to a limited degree. It could handle any calculation which returned an answer of anything up to “4”. “1 + 1” it could manage (“2”), and “1 + 2” (“3”) and “2 + 2” (“4”) or “tan 74” (“3.4874145”), but anything above “4” it represented merely as “A Suffusion of Yellow”.
J’aurais dû y penser avant, p. 99 :
When the girl sitting at the next table looked away for a moment, Dirk leaned over and took her coffee. He knew that he was perfectly safe doing this because she would simply not be able to believe that this had happened.
L’une des phrases les plus parfaitement écrites de toute l’histoire de la littérature britannique, p. 115 :
The owner of the legs followed them in the usual manner, closed the car door tenderly, and then made her way into the building. […] The car remained parked in front of it.
L’une des phrases les plus parfaitement écrites de toute l’histoire de la littérature britannique (bis), p. 158 :
The pub combined all the traditional English qualities of horse brasses, Formica and surliness.
L’une des phrases les plus parfaitement écrites de toute l’histoire de la littérature britannique (ter), p. 185 :
As Dirk edged his way along the Euston Road, caught in the middle of a rush hour traffic jam that had started in the late nineteen seventies and which, at a quarter to ten on this Thursday evening, still showed no signs of abating, he thought he caught sight of something he recognised.