Because fear kills everything," Mo had once told her. "Your mind, your heart, your imagination.

A reader doesn't really see the characters in a story; he feels them.

Children, they're the same everywhere. Greedy little creatures but the best listeners in the world - any world. The very best of all.

Everyone is small at night.

Sometimes it's a good thing we don't remember things half as well as books do.

What on earth have you packed in here? Bricks?" asked Mo as he carried Meggie's book-box out of the house. You're the one who says books have to be heavy because the whole world's inside them," said Meggie.

He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her full on the mouth. His skin was wet with rain. When she didn't pull away, he took her face between his hands and kissed her again, on her forehead, on her nose, on her mouth once more. "You will come, won't you? Promisse!" he whispered.