Paul Jenkins Quotes

Wil allowed his voice to trail off. The chances of a rational explanation at this point were in exact proportion to the chances of Lucy believing it.

The cat leaned into Wil’s leg and rubbed a little bit, just to let Wil know that he had officially been given permission to exist.

I see where you're going with this, Wil. Bravo!"
"Do you?" replied Wil. "Because honestly, Mr. Dinsdale, if you know where I'm going, perhaps you'd be kind enough to give me directions!

His museum took a stance against conventional thinking, and the slow death of intellect that comes with mediocrity.

Wil knew that he had done something that might never be undone: his Dad might forgive the years of lies, but he would never forgive this one moment of absolute truth.

Wil tried a vacant stare, just to see if he could beat the old lady at her own game.

Wil," said Barry with a weight of sadness that only a parent can know, "I tried as hard as I could.

I think you're missing the point."
"I think I'm not alone in that.

He began to think of better days, all of which lay in the opposite direction from the one he was facing.

Wil had always suspected Mrs. Chappell’s cats were onto something: if one can act as if everything is right with the world while all around clowns dressed in snorkels, flippers, and tutus are throwing bowls of neon-green custard at each other then, by golly, everything is right with the world.

Hindsight would later suggest to Wil that things coincidentally began to fall down at exactly the same time he began to relax. He wasn’t to know this at the time, of course. Otherwise it would’ve been foresight.

Life is not about how you use your eyes; it’s about having vision.

He was also willing to bet that not a single part of his next three or four minutes was going to make any sense, yet somehow it would all fit quite neatly into Mrs. Chappell’s version of reality.

Wil had learned as a child that the best way to deal with goons—the more muscle-bound the better—was to confuse them. For while the human bicep was something anyone with a little patience could build up to an impressive size, the human brain was less a variable and more something a person was born with. Goons, in his experience, were rarely born with very large ones.

It was apparent that he was out of his league, and that the only way to compete would be to play along until everyone reverted to ignoring him. At that point, he’d be able to slip out the back door and return to his previously scheduled life.