He lied about that. He didn’t want to annoy you. He’s a slitherer-outer, if you know what I mean, Your Majesty.
Evidently she was one of those people who like to cling to a theory once they have made it.
Somewhere in the lane after that they came level with a small door next to a fried chicken shop. There was a small red-lit sign over this door.
That can go in the cabinet, and so can this One Ring. No, don’t put it on, you fool! It’s dangerous!
My mother says that laundry breeds if you don’t wash it.
I put my arms round her. For just a mere, single instant I had a real, heavy body in my arms and a moist face against my cheek, with a real, difficult personality to go with them.
In fact, Cat was fairly sure Tonino was feeling just the way Cat had felt himself when he first came to Chrestomanci Castle, and Cat could not get over the annoyance of having someone have feelings that were his.
So you eat them. And don’t try chucking them away. I’ll know. I empty the bins.
Mother knows you don’t have to be unkind to someone in order to exploit them.
Is that all you can do in the face of tragedy?” Howl asked. “Make toast!?
Zip! Back to the mansion. Zip! to Market Square. Zip! and there was the castle yet again. She was getting the hang of it. Zip! Here was Upper Folding – but how did you stop? Zip! “Oh, confound it!” Sophie cried, almost in Marsh Folding again.
Only thin, weak thinkers despise fairy stories.
She stood for a moment looking out at a slowly moving view of the hills, watching heather slide past underneath the door, feeling the wind blow her wispy hair, and listening to the rumble and grind of the big black stones as the castle moved.
Be daffodils in June, you beastly things!
Sophie knew Howl could sound unhappy in heaven if it suited him.
I’ve been feeling rather bloodthirsty lately, and saving the world seemed a good way to use it.
You owe me. You roasted my father.
They knew that if, as a child, you do pluck up the courage to hit a bully, it is an act of true heroism – as great as that of Beowulf in his old age.
I remember passing the tomboy, sitting in her special place of punishment opposite the bully. She was blazing with her deed, as if she had actually been touched by a god. And I thought that this confirmed all my theories: a child in her position is open to any heroic myth I care to use; she is inward with folktales; she would feel the force of any magical or divine intervention.
That is the path of Wickedness, though some call it the Road to Heaven.