Alex decided he’d had enough. He put down his knife. “All right,” he said. “You’ve made it pretty clear that you don’t want to work with me. Well, that’s fine. Because I don’t want to work with you either. And for what it’s worth, nobody would ever believe you were my mom because no mom would ever behave like you.” “Alex…,” Carver began. “Forget it! I’m going back to London. And if you’re Mr. Byrne asks why, you can tell him I didn’t like the jelly, so I went home to get some jam.

For all men are equal at the moment of death and who are we to judge them when a much greater judge awaits?

Once you get into the world of dystopia, it's hard to avoid plagiarism, because other people have had such powerful visions.

Writing about magic is harder than writing about spies because you're dealing with something that doesn't really exist.

What is this place? Hogwarts? -- Alex Rider

You weren’t in any real danger. We knew exactly where you were all the time.

My greatest fear is disappointing the reader, so each book has to be better than the one before.