Children may not understand all that’s happening below the surface of a story. It doesn’t matter. Because even though they may not be able to define or verbalize it, they sense there’s something more than meets the eye; on an almost subliminal level, they’re aware of a richness of texture, or meaning and emotion – a richness that, in a great book, is inexhaustible. And the child may well come back to it again and again, perhaps long after he’s stopped being a child.
My luck’s no greater than yours or any man’s. You need only sharpen your eyes to see your luck when it comes, and sharpen your wits to use what falls into your hands.
The art is more important than the artist. The work is more important than the person who does it. You must be prepared to sacrifice all the you could possibly have, be, or do; you must be willing to go all the way for your art. If it is a question between choosing between your life and a work of art – any work of art – your decision is made for you.
I’ve heard men complain of doing woman’s work, and women complain of doing man’s work,” she added, fastening her bony thumb and forefinger on Gurgi’s ear and marching him to a stool beside Taran, “but I’ve never heard the work complain of who did it, so long as it got done!
Gwydion stood as a wolf at bay, his green eyes glittering, his teeth bared.
It would be a shame if you were killed. I should be very sorry. I know I wouldn’t like it to happen to me.
Of wisdom there are as many patterns as a loom can weave. Yours is the wisdom of good and kindly heart. Scarce it is and its worth all the greater.
Two things never mix: one is enchantments and the other is meddling with them.
On the level of high art, in their common efforts to express human truths, relationships, attitudes, and personal visions, children’s literature and adult literature meet and sometimes merge, and we wonder then whether a given work is truly for children or truly for grown-ups. The answer, of course, is: for both.
When prophecies give no help, men must find it themselves.
Inconvient things are always remembered.
There is much to be known,” said Adaon, “and above all much to be loved, be it the turn of the seasons or the shape of a river pebble. Indeed, the more we find to love, the more we add to the measure of our hearts.
Every living thing deserves our respect... be it humble or proud, ugly or beautiful.
Children’s literature as a literary aberration or at best a minor amusement is a notion held most strongly by people who read the fewest children’s books. I think it was Ruth Hill Viguers who compared this attitude with asking a pediatrician when he’s going to stop fooling around and get down to the serious business of treating adults.
One way everything looks all right, the other way, it looks all wrong.
There are heroes and heroes. I don’t deny he’s acted bravely on occasion. He’s fought beside Lord Gwydion and been proud of himself as a chick wearing eagle’s feathers. But that’s only one kind of bravery. Has the darling robin ever scratched for his own worms? That’s bravery of another sort. And between the two, dear Orwen, he might find the latter shows the greater courage.
He learned that the lives of men are short and filled with pain, yet each one a priceless treasure, whether it be that of a prince or a pig-keeper. And, at the last, the book taught him that while nothing was certain, all was possible. “At the end of knowledge, wisdom begins, Dallben murmured. “And at the end of wisdom there is not grief, but hope.
And so shall honor Morgant,” Gwydion said, “for what he used to be, and Ellidyr Prince of Pen-Llarcau for what he became.
Yet long afterward, when all had passed away into distant memory, there were many who wondered whether King Taran, Queen Eilonwy, and their companions had indeed walked the earth, or whether they had been no more than dreams in a tale set down to beguile children. And, in time, only the bards knew the truth of it.
It is beyond any man’s wisdom to judge the secret heart of another,” he said, “for in it are good and evil mixed.