Mr. Crossley suddenly wondered why he was why he was worrying about the note. It was only a joke, after all. He cleared his throat. Everyone looked up hopefully. 'Somebody,' said Mr. Crossley, 'seems to have sent me a Halloween message.' And he read out the note: 'SOMEONE IN THIS CLASS IS A WITCH.' 6B thought this was splendid news. Hands shot up all over the room like a bed of beansprouts. 'It's me, Mr. Crossley!' 'Mr. Crossley, I'm the witch!' 'Can I be the witch, Mr. Crossley?' 'Me, Mr. Crossley, me, me, me!
Diana Wynne JonesThen watch out. I warn you!" "That is very considerate of you," said Chrestomanci. "I like to be warned.
Diana Wynne JonesGo to bed, you fool," Calcifer said sleepily. "You're drunk." "Who, me?" said Howl. "I assure you, my friends, I am cone sold stober." He got up and stalked upstairs, feeling for the wall as if he thought it might escape him unless he kept in touch with it. His bedroom door did escape him.
Diana Wynne JonesFantasy for me as a kid was real, and I had a fantasy about what life was, whether it was sort of wicked and dire, or wholly normal, or whatever. Anything really close to home is not, it seems to me, what a good book should be about.
Diana Wynne Jones