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A review by colleengeedrumm
The Golden Tresses of the Dead: A Flavia de Luce Novel by Alan Bradley
4.0
There is no cozier place on earth to discuss body-snatching than a gently rocking railway carriage in the rain. The constant jostling to and fro over the rails seems to shake loose the mind and send it into channels one would never dream of at the fireside.
A moment of reverence can often open new doors: provide new pathways which might have otherwise been left unexplored.
Scotch eggs - and hold the eggs.
One’s kidneys have almost fallen out from shock.
Turned my liver to lemon jelly.
My guts went numb.
A pudding-headed moon calf.
I sometimes suffer from an excess of zeal.
Alone in my room, I pondered the evidence.
Early autumn was sweeping the land with its broom of many colors, and the trees were washed in all the glory of an early sunset.
What I needed was a jolly good chin-wag.
Scared the soup out of me.
With me as unprepared as a head of raw lettuce.
Is this seat taken? If so, I shall toddle off and perch elsewhere.
Been rattling around taking a squint at the countryside.
You’d make a bumblebee look lazy.
All great problems, when whittled down to their root, we’re about money. No matter how tangled they seemed on the surface, the bottom was always banknotes.
It wasn’t a charitable thought, but that’s the way my mind works.
What human being can refuse to hear a confession?
It is best always to have an understanding with authority, even if it is written in invisible ink.
A moment of reverence can often open new doors: provide new pathways which might have otherwise been left unexplored.
Scotch eggs - and hold the eggs.
One’s kidneys have almost fallen out from shock.
Turned my liver to lemon jelly.
My guts went numb.
A pudding-headed moon calf.
I sometimes suffer from an excess of zeal.
Alone in my room, I pondered the evidence.
Early autumn was sweeping the land with its broom of many colors, and the trees were washed in all the glory of an early sunset.
What I needed was a jolly good chin-wag.
Scared the soup out of me.
With me as unprepared as a head of raw lettuce.
Is this seat taken? If so, I shall toddle off and perch elsewhere.
Been rattling around taking a squint at the countryside.
You’d make a bumblebee look lazy.
All great problems, when whittled down to their root, we’re about money. No matter how tangled they seemed on the surface, the bottom was always banknotes.
It wasn’t a charitable thought, but that’s the way my mind works.
What human being can refuse to hear a confession?
It is best always to have an understanding with authority, even if it is written in invisible ink.