It is often difficult to admit that someone you love is not perfect, or to consider aspects of a person that are less than admirable.

I'm always loath to make generalizations about what is for children and what isn't. Certainly children's literature as a genre has some restrictions, so certain things will never pop up in a Snicket book. But I didn't know anything about writing for children when I started - this is the theme of naïveté creeping up on us once more - and I sort of still don't, and I'm happy that adults are reading them as well as children.

But the three siblings were not born yesterday. Violet was born more than fifteen years before this particular Wednesday, and Klaus was born approximately two years after that, and even Sunny, who had just passed out of babyhood, was not born yesterday. Neither were you, unless of course I am wrong, in which case welcome to the world, little baby, and congratulations on learning to read so early in life.

I think if I were walking someplace and I saw a corpse my brain would tell me it was a million things before I believed it was a corpse.

Even though there are no ways of knowing for sure, there are ways of knowing for pretty sure.

In the secret pocket, she often kept a small pocket dictionary, which she would take out whenever she encountered a word she did not know.

Making you happy isn't making me happy.