They lived in their flat with a number of aging Highland terriers who had names like Hamish and Andrew and Jock.
Will she be the same?” The old woman guffawed, as if I had said the funniest thing in the universe. “Nothing’s ever the same,” she said. “Be it a second later or a hundred years. It’s always churning and roiling. And people change as much as oceans.
Poems ancient and modern prowled the ice floes in bear form, filled with words that could wound with their beauty.
Sometimes I think it is because we remember when we could smoke in pubs, and that we pull our phones out together as once we pulled out our cigarette packets. But probably it’s because we are easily bored.
In the flat above Coraline’s, under the roof, was a crazy old man with a big mustache. He told Coraline that he was training a mouse circus. He wouldn’t let anyone see it.
Well, perhaps. But that was so long ago. That was yesterday’s Loki. Today’s Loki is here to save you and to take you home.
She shut the door and put the string of keys back on top of the kitchen doorframe. ‘You didn’t lock it,’ said Coraline. Her mother shrugged. ‘Why should I lock it?’ She asked. ‘It doesn’t go anywhere.’ Coraline didn’t say anything.
If you know someone really well it’s hard to be mad at them for very long.
In psychiatry, Doctor -unlike, perhaps, the world of sexually transmitted disease clinics- there is no such thing as a cure. There is only adjustment.
The mice have a message for you,′ he whispered. Coraline didn’t know what to say. ‘The message is this. Don’t go through the door.’ He paused. ‘Does that mean anything to you?
She didn’t walk. She didn’t fly. She moved like the wind, like a cold autumn wind that made people shiver as she passed, that stirred the leaves on the pavements.
The dread had not left my soul.
The air was alive with yellow wasps. We must have stepped on a wasps’ nest in a rotten branch as we walked. And while I was running up the hill, my dad stayed and got stung, to give me time to run away.
The little mutton-chopped man interrupted them to point out that in his opinion good was not the avoidance of evil, but something more positive than that: it was making the world a better place.
The dream was haunting me: standing behind me, present and yet invisible, like the back of my head, simultaneously there and not there.
Nobody sensible believes in ghosts anyway – that’s because they’re all such liars.
No siempre recordamos las cosas que no hablan bien de nosotros. Las justificamos, las cubrimos con vistosas mentiras o con el espeso polvo del olvido.
That’s right,” said Door. Her cheek lightly grazed and her dirty reddish hair was tangled; tangled but not matted. And her eyes... Richard realized that he could not tell what color her eyes were. They were not blue, or green, or brown, or gray; they reminded him of fire opals: there were burning greens and blues, and even reds and yellows that vanished and glinted as she moved.
He isn’t eating,” whispered Skirnir. “He does not need to,” said Frey. “He drinks. He only needs wine, nothing else. Come.
I was going to ask you the same thing – Watch out for that pedestrian!” “It’s on the street, it knows the risks it’s taking!