Catherine Moreau Quotes

“CATHERINE: I can’t write from Diana’s point of view.

MARY: Of course you can. You’re a writer; you can write anything. Just find your inner Diana.

CATHERINE: I don’t have an inner Diana.

DIANA: Ha! You wish. Everyone has an inner Diana.”
― Theodora Goss, The Strange Case of the Alchemist's Daughter

“BEATRICE: Do you truly not know who he was? Mr. Dorian Gray, the lover of Mr. Oscar Wilde, who was sent to Reading Gaol for—well, for holding opinions that society does not approve of! For believing in beauty, and art, and love. What guilt and remorse he must feel, for causing the downfall of the greatest playwright of the age! It was Mr. Gray’s dissolute parties, the antics of his hedonistic friends, that exposed Mr. Wilde to scandal and opprobrium. No wonder he has fallen prey to the narcotic.

MARY: Or he could just like opium. He didn’t seem particularly remorseful, Bea.

JUSTINE: Mr. Gray is not what society deems him to be. He has been greatly misunderstood. He assures me that he had no intention of harming Mr. Wilde.

MARY: He would say that.

CATHERINE: Can we not discuss the Wilde scandal in the middle of my book? You’re going to get it banned in Boston, and such other puritanical places.”
― Theodora Goss, The Sinister Mystery of the Mesmerizing Girl

“MARY: Are our readers going to know what the Athena Club is?

CATHERINE: They will if they read the first two books! Which they should, and I hope if they are reading this volume and have not read the previous ones, they will go right out and purchase them. Two shillings each, a bargain at the price!”
― Theodora Goss, The Sinister Mystery of the Mesmerizing Girl

“MARY: My wrath! When do I ever get wrathful?

CATHERINE: It’s your particular kind of wrath. You don’t shout—you just get precise and icy.

MARY: That’s not wrath. I don’t think that counts as wrath.

DIANA: It’s Mary wrath. Your particular kind, as Cat said. Not that I’m scared of it, mind you. But it’s worse than being shouted at.

MARY: I have no idea what either of you are talking about. Alice, am I ever wrathful?

ALICE: Well, yes, actually. If you don’t mind my saying so, miss. When you learned what the Order of the Golden Dawn had done to me and Mr. Holmes—

CATHERINE: Oh no, you don’t! We have chapters to go before you can talk about that. Really, not one of you has any idea of narrative timing.”
― Theodora Goss, The Sinister Mystery of the Mesmerizing Girl

“BEATRICE: They are the clothing of the New Woman. They are meant not to be feminine, but practical.

CATHERINE: On women they look like men’s clothing, on men they look like women’s clothing. That’s where the New Woman meets the Dandy.

BEATRICE: Why is it necessary to categorize people in that fashion? Why can we not all wear whatever we wish, whatever is useful and aesthetically pleasing? I believe that someday we shall all wear garments that are light and of a pleasing texture, easy to put on and take off. At the same time, they will express the aspirations of the spirit. They will be like the garments of the Greeks, both graceful and functional. Why can we not dress in such a fashion now?

MRS. POOLE: Because this is England, and you would all catch your deaths of cold.”
― Theodora Goss, The Sinister Mystery of the Mesmerizing Girl

“BEATRICE: You make me sound so dramatic, Catherine!

CATHERINE: Well, you are dramatic, with your long black hair and the clear olive complexion that marks you a daughter of the sunny south, of Italy, land of poetry and brigands. You would be the perfect romantic heroine, if only you weren’t so contrary about it.

BEATRICE: But I have no desire to be a romantic heroine.

MARY: Brigands? Seriously, Cat, this isn’t the eighteenth century. Nowadays Italy is perfectly civilized.”
― Theodora Goss, European Travel for the Monstrous Gentlewoman

“MARY: I don’t think you have dulcet tones. Dulcet means sweet. When are you ever sweet?

CATHERINE: My most dulcet tones. I was using the superlative. Everyone has a most something, even if it’s not very much.

BEATRICE: I think Catherine can be quite sweet when she wants to.

CATHERINE: I just don’t want to very often.”
― Theodora Goss, European Travel for the Monstrous Gentlewoman

“MARY: How in the world are our readers going to know who Miss Jenks is? She was only in the first book.

CATHERINE: Then they should go back and read the first book. It’s only two shillings, at bookshops and train stations. I would have mentioned that, but you told me to stop advertising!”
― Theodora Goss, European Travel for the Monstrous Gentlewoman

“You know, I’ve been called a thief before. Growing up in Hackney, going to the markets with my mother—the shopkeepers always kept an eye on us, in case we pilfered anything. Because we looked Indian, and you could never tell with those wogs, could you? The number of times I was told I wasn’t welcome because I wasn’t really English, even though I’d been born in London, same as them. I thought the circus was going to be different. I thought you”—she looked at Catherine accusingly—“were going to be different. But you know what? Why don’t you just search my stuff. Go on. Whatever you’re missing, jewelry or money—you just go ahead and look for it!” She bent down and drew her suitcase out from under the seat, threw it on top, and opened it violently, so that dresses and scarves spilled out. She shook the contents directly onto the seat cushions, then scattered them about. “Here you go, that’s what you wanted, right? And if you find whatever you’re looking for, you can go ahead and put me in gaol, or whatever they have for gaol here in Austria. I’m going to feed the snakes—they need their lunch too. They may be poisonous, but they’ve never made me feel like dirt. It takes a human being to do that.”
― Theodora Goss, European Travel for the Monstrous Gentlewoman

“CATHERINE: Readers who are not familiar with the tale of Beatrice and Giovanni can find it in the first of these adventures of the Athena Club, in an attractive green cloth binding that will appear to advantage in a lady’s or gentleman’s library. Two shillings, as I mentioned before.

BEATRICE: You would use the story of my grief to sell copies of your book?

CATHERINE: Our book. I may be writing it, but you are all as responsible for its contents as I am. What is the point if we don’t reach readers? And honestly, Bea, you’re not the only one whose sorrows are being recorded here. I mean . . . Bea?

MARY: She’s gone back to the conservatory. I think you offended her—seriously offended her. The way you offended Zora.

CATHERINE: Why do you humans have to be so emotional?”
― Theodora Goss, European Travel for the Monstrous Gentlewoman

“MARY: Cat, should you be writing all this? I mean, Irene still lives in Vienna. Her secret room won’t be a secret once this book is published.

CATHERINE: She said I could. Granted, she said no one would believe it anyway, the way no one believes Mrs. Shelly’s biography of Victor Frankenstein. Everyone assumes it’s fiction. She says people rarely believe in what they think to be improbable, although they often believe in the impossible. They find it easier to believe in spiritualism than in the platypus.

BEATRICE: So she thinks our readers might assume this is a work of fiction?

CATHERINE: Bea, you sound upset by that.

BEATRICE: And you are not? Do you not care whether readers understand that this is the truth of our lives?

CATHERINE: As long as they buy the book, no, not much. As long as they pay their two shillings a volume, and I receive royalties . . .”
― Theodora Goss, European Travel for the Monstrous Gentlewoman

“MARY: Catherine! Is it necessary to include such a detail?

CATHERINE: Do you expect our readers to believe that we had no bodily needs or functions for entire days at a time?

MARY: No, but such things are simply—unstated. They go without saying.

CATHERINE: It’s very fashionable now to include realistic details, no matter how unpleasant or improper. Look at the French writers. Look at Émile Zola.

MARY: We are not French.”
― Theodora Goss, European Travel for the Monstrous Gentlewoman

“MARY: Renaissance, not medieval. Most of the castle was built during the sixteenth century, although I believe its foundations date from the fourteenth.

CATHERINE: And our readers will care why?

MARY: You may not care for accuracy, but I do—and Carmilla will, when she reads this book.

CATHERINE: If I ever get the damn thing written, with all these interruptions!”
― Theodora Goss, European Travel for the Monstrous Gentlewoman

“MARY: It’s called a Schloss. That’s what small castles are called in Styria, Laura told me.

CATHERINE: Yes, but do you think our English readers are going to know that? Or our American readers? I’m hoping for some American sales, if the deal with Collier & Son comes through, and there are no Schlosses in America—just teepees and department stores.

BEATRICE: The slaughter of the native population is a shameful stain on American history. Clarence says—

CATHERINE: For goodness’ sake, how are we going to sell to readers in the United States if you go on about the slaughter of the native Americans? Who’s going to want to read about that?

BEATRICE: Those who do not want to read about it are exactly those who should be made aware, Catherine. This may be a story of our adventures, but we must not shy away from confronting the difficult issues of the times. Literature exists to educate as well as entertain, after all.

DIANA: You all went from Schlosses to teepees to a political discussion, and you think I ramble?”
― Theodora Goss, European Travel for the Monstrous Gentlewoman

“CATHERINE: All these questions, and more, will be answered in the third volume of these adventures of the Athena Club, assuming this volume sells sufficiently well—two shillings in bookstores, train stations, and directly from the publisher. And should anyone wish to bring out an American edition—

MARY: You really have to stop it with the advertisements!

CATHERINE: If our readers want to find out what happens to Alice, they will need to buy the first two books! Of course, if they want me to leave Alice in peril . . .”
― Theodora Goss, European Travel for the Monstrous Gentlewoman

“MARY: Hysterical mutism is most often associated with trauma, such as an assault of some sort. I learned that in Vienna, when we were discussing symptoms of madness before Diana was—

CATHERINE: Could you please not spoil the plot for our readers? You can talk about researching symptoms of madness all you want when I get to Vienna. I mean when you get to Vienna, later in the narrative.”
― Theodora Goss, European Travel for the Monstrous Gentlewoman

“MRS. POOLE: I would have done just the same as Alice, if I hadn’t remembered my training. A good servant never gives way to emotion, my father used to tell me when he was alive, bless his soul. You girls going so far away, and not knowing when you’d be back!

MARY: But we did get back safely in the end, Mrs. Poole.

MRS. POOLE: Eventually! But the worry I had along the way . . .

CATHERINE: Can you please do your best to not give away the plot? Like the fact that Mary eventually made it safely home . . . I won’t say whether or not the others did!

MARY: Oh please. If we hadn’t made it back, we wouldn’t be writing this book. The important thing is, what happened to us on the way?

CATHERINE: It’s unbelievable, what authors have to put up with from their own characters. Remind me why I agreed to do this?

MARY: Excuse me. We are not your characters, but fellow members of the Athena Club. And as to why you agreed . . . we need money, remember?

CATHERINE: Oh, right.”
― Theodora Goss, European Travel for the Monstrous Gentlewoman

“Well, there’s one thing that gives me hope.”

“What’s that?” asked Beatrice, shaking out one of the blankets and wrapping it around herself.

Catherine smiled. It was a grim smile. “Diana’s with them. There is no situation so well-planned that Diana can’t introduce chaos into it. Whoever is holding them, wherever they’re being held, is going to regret it.”
― Theodora Goss, European Travel for the Monstrous Gentlewoman