That stirring which had fluttered in her on first glimpsing the sea—that stirring landlocked children know so well—moved in her now, with the golden stars over head, and the green fireflies glinting on the wooded shore. She carefully unfolded the stirring that she had so tightly packed away. It billowed out like a sail, and she laughed, despite herself, despite hunger and hard things ahead.

If you want to kill yourself, do not use us as your knife.

Where there is a Key, there is yet hope.

Readers will always insist on adventures, and though you can have grief without adventures, you cannot have adventures without grief.

Stories have a way of changing faces. They are unruly things, undisciplined, given to delinquency and the throwing of erasers. This is why we must close them up into thick, solid books, so they cannot get out and cause trouble.

I have all the books I could need, and what more could I need than books?

You should always listen to minotaurs. Anybody with four stomachs has to have a firm grip on reality.