Цитаты из книги Американські боги

He thought the Irishman was going to hit him for a moment, but the moment passed and Mad Sweeney just stood there, holding out his gold-filled cap with both hands like Oliver Twist.

His voice was a whine now, "Listen, just give me the fucken coin, man.

6:45 A.M.,
<…>
It was lighter out than it had seemed from inside the house, and the snow reflected the light from the sky.

He turned on the bedside lamp, climbed into bed, and read for a little, trying to turn off his mind, to get the last few days out of his head, picking the dullest-looking articles in the dullest-looking Digests. He noticed he was falling asleep halfway through "I Am Joe's Pancreas."

"A joke," said the late Mr. Wood, in Shadow's memory. "How can we be sure the CIA wasn't involved in the Kennedy assassination?"

They never spent long enough in any place for Shadow to make friends, to feel at home, to relax.

It's like the funeral business-the big guys are going to buy you up one day, like it or not, because they're bigger and more efficient and because they work.

"Do you believe in the soul?" It wasn't quite the question he had been going to ask, and it took him by surprise to hear it coming from his mouth. He had intended to say something less direct, but there was nothing less direct that he could say.

As Shadow passed it he noticed that the newsreader was grinning and winking at him. When he was sure that no one was looking in his direction he gave the set the finger.

Mr. Ibis spoke in explanations: a gentle, earnest lecturing that put Shadow in mind of a college professor who used to work out at the Muscle Farm and who could not talk, could only discourse, expound, explain.

Six o'clock in the evening. Salim has not yet written the fax to his brother-in-law. He goes out into the rain, buys himself this night's kabob and french fries.

They do not piss into holes, because the Prophet told them that jinn live in holes.

red sands blow a dust storm through his thoughts,

its eyes, like yours, were burning flames."
<…>
"Are there many jinn in New York?" asks Salim.
"No. Not many of us."

In the evening, Salim sits in his hotel room, reading his Qur'an, telling himself that this will pass, that his stay in this strange world is limited and finite.

The little girl looked at the animals, she looked up at Shadow, and then she ran off, her feet pounding the sidewalk as if all the powers of hell were after her. The two animals watched her go.

"What did you think?" Shadow asked the dog, trying to put the little girl at her ease. "Was that cool?"
The black dog licked its long snout. Then it said, in a deep, dry voice, "I saw Harry Houdini once, and believe me, man, you are no Harry Houdini."

and the light made even the garbage magical.

In the late afternoon the sun began to lower, gilding the world in elf-light, a thick warm custardy light that made the world feel unearthly and more than real, and it was in this light that Shadow passed the sign telling him he was Now Entering Historical Cairo.

<…>looked like enormous freshly baked cookies in the syrupy gold of the light at the end of the day.