'Help me,' Allison says, but she is soft-spoken, and everyone she loves is so far away.

There is no worse sound in the world than someone who cannot play the violin but insists on doing so anyway.

This story is about the Baudelaires. And they are the sort of people who know that there’s always something. Something to invent, something to read, something to bite, and something to do, to make a sanctuary, no matter how small. And for this reason, I am happy to say, the Baudelaires were very fortunate indeed.

I love meeting people who have absolutely no sense of irony. It's really fascinating to imagine what it would be like to go through life without understanding even the most basic of ironies.

I suppose I'll have to add the force of gravity to my list of enemies.

It is a lonely feeling when someone you care about becomes a stranger.

A newspaper, as I'm sure you know, is a collection of supposedly true stories written down by writers who either saw them happen or talked to people who did. These writers are called journalists, and like telephone operators, butchers, ballerinas, and people who clean up after horses, journalists can sometimes make mistakes.