The book dialog game

[pdurrant]

OK, a rather sentimental book that I'm fond of from 1934. This quote might be too easy, but if I'm wrong, I'll add another later today.

"Colley, you are—umph—a splendid example of—umph—inherited traditions. I remember your grandfather—umph—he could never grasp the Ablative Absolute. A stupid fellow, your grandfather. And your father, too—umph—I remember him—he used to sit at that far desk by the wall—he wasn't much better, either. But I do believe—my dear Colley— that you are—umph—the biggest fool of the lot!"

[The Terminator]

The "Umph" rings a bell.

[pdurrant]

OK, here's some more.

Young Cricklade approached. "Please, sir, what shall we do if we meet any strikers?"
"Would you like to meet one?"
"I—I don't know, sir."
God bless the boy—he talked of them as if they were queer animals out of a zoo! "Well, here you are, then—umph—you can meet Mr. Jones—he's a striker. When he's on duty he has charge of the signal box at the station. You've put your life in his hands many a time."

[Daithi]

No idea.

[pdurrant]

OK, some more that might jog memories. Part of the retirement speech of our eponymous hero.

"Well, well, perhaps I shall write it, some day. But I'd rather tell you about it, really. I remember… I remember… but chiefly I remember all your faces. I never forget them. I have thousands of faces in my mind— the faces of boys. If you come and see me again in years to come— as I hope you all will—I shall try to remember those older faces of yours, but it's just possible I shan't be able to—and then some day you'll see me somewhere and I shan't recognize you and you'll say to yourself, 'The old boy doesn't remember me.' [Laughter] But I DO remember you—as you are NOW. That's the point. In my mind you never grow up at all. Never. Sometimes, for instance, when people talk to me about our respected Chairman of the Governors, I think to myself, 'Ah, yes, a jolly little chap with hair that sticks up on top—and absolutely no idea whatever about the difference between a Gerund and a Gerundive.' [Loud laughter] Well, well, I mustn't go on—umph—all night. Think of me sometimes as I shall certainly think of you. Haec olim meminisse juvabit… again I need not translate." Much laughter and shouting and prolonged cheers.

[pdurrant]

And one scene that I want to include before someone guess it. I've had to replace a few names, some because they'd give the game away, and others because they wouldn't!

And once, on a night of full moonlight, the air-raid warning was given while [OUR HERO] was taking his lower fourth in Latin. The guns began almost instantly, and, as there was plenty of shrapnel falling about outside, it seemed to [OUR HERO] that they might just as well stay where they were, on the ground floor of School House. It was pretty solidly built and made as good a dugout as [PLACENAME] could offer; and as for a direct hit, well, they could not expect to survive that, wherever they were.
So he went on with his Latin, speaking a little louder amid the reverberating crashes of the guns and the shrill whine of antiaircraft shells. Some of the boys were nervous; few were able to be attentive. He said, gently: "It may possibly seem to you, Robertson—at this particular moment in the world's history—umph— that the affairs of Caesar in Gaul some two thousand years ago—are— umph—of somewhat secondary importance—and that—umph—the irregular conjugation of the verb tollo is—umph—even less important still. But believe me—umph—my dear Robertson—that is not really the case." Just then there came a particularly loud explosion—quite near. "You cannot—umph—judge the importance of things—umph—by the noise they make. Oh dear me, no." A little chuckle. "And these things—umph—that have mattered—for thousands of years—are not going to be—snuffed out—because some stink merchant—in his laboratory—invents a new kind of mischief."
Titters of nervous laughter; for [NAME], the pale, lean, and medically unfit science master, was nicknamed the Stink Merchant.
Another explosion—nearer still. "Let us—um—resume our work. If it is fate that we are soon to be—umph—interrupted, let us be found employing ourselves in something—umph—really appropriate. Is there anyone who will volunteer to construe?"
[BOY'S NAME], chubby, dauntless, clever, and impudent, said: "I will, sir."
"Very good. Turn to page forty and begin at the bottom line."
The explosions still continued deafeningly; the whole building shook as if it were being lifted off its foundations. [THE BOY] found the page, which was some way ahead, and began, shrilly:—
"Genus hoc erat pugnae—this was the kind of fight—quo se Germani exercuerant—in which the Germans busied themselves. Oh, sir, that's good—that's really very funny indeed, sir—one of your very best—"

[issybird]

OK, this: Part of the retirement speech of our eponymous hero. gave it to me, I think. Goodbye, Mr. Chips, by James Hilton.

[pdurrant]

Yes, exactly so. If you haven't read it, I recommend it, even if it is amazingly sentimental.

[issybird]

I read it back in the dawn of time and regrettably have little memory of it and that confused with the film. That would be the Donat, of course, and not the O'Toole. Why do they remake films that can't be improved?

I'll get a quote up when I have a moment.

[issybird]

Here it is:

It was on the afternoon of the Christmas Eve, and I was in Mrs. Prothero's garden, waiting for cats, with her son Jim. It was snowing. It was always snowing at Christmas. December, in my memory, is white as Lapland, though there were no reindeers.

Originally Posted by issybird

Here it is:

It was on the afternoon of the Christmas Eve, and I was in Mrs. Prothero's garden, waiting for cats, with her son Jim. It was snowing. It was always snowing at Christmas. December, in my memory, is white as Lapland, though there were no reindeers.

The mention of Mrs. Prothero and the cats was enough for me. Unless there is a great coincidence occurring here this is from A Child's Christmas in Wales by Dylan Thomas

[issybird]

Originally Posted by Hamlet53

The mention of Mrs. Prothero and the cats was enough for me. Unless there is a great coincidence occurring here this is from A Child's Christmas in Wales by Dylan Thomas

Indeed it is. Your turn.

So this is from another nice Christmas themed book:


"Seems like your hand used to be so much smaller. I guess I hate to see you grow up. When you're grown up, will we still be friends?" I say always. "But I feel so bad, Buddy. I wanted so bad to give you a bike. I tried to sell my cameo Papa gave me. Buddy"—she hesitates, as though embarrassed—"I made you another kite." Then I confess that I made her one, too; and we laugh.




I'll provide another clue tomorrow if no one gets the correct title by then.

[issybird]

Buddy pretty much does it, just like Mrs. Prothero.

[WT Sharpe]

The number of Christmas-themed books I haven't read is staggering.

Originally Posted by issybird

...Why do they remake films that can't be improved?...

To add color, pop music, and explosions?