V48: Varifrån kommer citatet?

Lösningen till förrförra veckans citat behöver jag egentligen inte lista här eftersom ni klarade alla citaten, men i alla fall

1: Helene Hanff: Brev till en bokhandel
2: Jean M. Auel: The Clan of the Cave Bear
3: Stephen King: Danse Macabre
4: Jan Guillou: Ondskan

Förra veckan satte jag ihop ett gäng citat som handlade om språk allihop, och de var tydligen rätt svåra. Hittills är det bara ett som är taget, så här finns fortfarande poäng att hämta.

Ställningen i toppen är oförändrad mot förra veckan: Jenny har sju poäng, Joachim Björk har fyra.

Så till veckans citat:

Text 1:

Ärren på armarna var från hennes amatörperiod, hon hade snart övergått till att skära sig under nyckelbenen, skulderbladen. På utsidan av skuldergladen satt ett par ärr så djupa och långa tt det närmast såg ut som att ett par vingar hade kapats av. Vacker tanke, men den gången hade hon blivit rätt; det ville aldrig sluta blöda [...]

Text 2:

'Pilot, it was his arm started rotting. He got nicked in the fight -- you remember the fight when you got knocked out? Christ Jesus, that seems to long ago! Anyway, his arm festered. I bled hum the next day and the next, then it started going black. I told him I'd better lance it or the whole arm'd have to come off -- told him a dozen times, we all did, but he wouldn't. On the fifth day the wound was stinking. We held him down and I sliced off most of the rot but it weren't no good. I knew it wasn't no good but some of us thought it worth a try. The yellow bastard doctor came a few times but he couldn't do nothing either. Rat Face lasted a day or two, but the rot was too deep and he raved a lot. We had to tie him up toward the end.'

Text 3:

The name he bore as a child, Duny, was given him by his mother, and that and his life were all she could give him, for she died before he was a year old. His father, the bronze-smith of the village, was a grim unspeaking man, and since Duny's six brothers were older than he by many years and went one by one from home to farm the land or sail the sea or work as smith in other towns of the Northward Vale, there was no one to bring the child up in tenderness.

Text 4:

I've amputated my left foot and have bandaged it with my pants. Strange. All through the operation I was drooling. Drooooling. Just like when I saw the gull. Drooling helplessly. But I made myself wait until after dark. I just counted backward from one hundred ... twenty or thirty times! Ha! Ha!

Then...

I kept telling myself: Cold roast beef. Cold roast beef. Cold roast beef.

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