I'm delirious," said Howl. "Spots are crawling before my eyes."
"Those are spiders," said Sophie. "Why can't you cure yourself with a spell?"
"Because there is no cure for a cold," Howl said dolefully. (Diana Wynne Jones)

I'm delirious," said Howl. "Spots are crawling before my eyes." "Those are spiders," said Sophie. "Why can't you cure yourself with a spell?" "Because there is no cure for a cold," Howl said dolefully.

Diana Wynne Jones

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cold cure howl spell sophie eyes

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There was no death row at Cold Mountain, only E Block, set apart from the other four and about a quarter their size, brick instead of wood, with a horrible bare metal roof that glared in the summer sun like a delirious eyeball.

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I followed them with my eyes going through life, which would be nothing to them but fields, mountains, or forests. I saw them veiled in a kind of light, sheltered from darkness, protected for a time against the fearful spell of memory and thought.

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By now it was clear that Howl was in a mood to produce green slime any second. Sophie hurriedly put her sewing away. "I'll make some hot buttered toast," she said. "Is that all you can do in the face of tragedy??" Howl asked. "Make toast!

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I used to think of that line in Allen Ginsberg's 'Howl', about the 'sad cup of coffee'... I have had cold coffee and hot coffee and lousy coffee, But I've never had a sad cup of coffee.

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I 've lately had two spiders Crawling upon my startled hopes. Now though thy friendly hand has brush'd 'em from me, Yet still they crawl offensive to my eyes: I would have some kind friend to tread upon 'em.

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