It wasn't a bit of good fighting grown-ups. They could do exactly as they liked.

Writing for children is an art in itself, and a most interesting one.

You're trying to escape from your difficulties, and there never is any escape from difficulties, never. They have to be faced and fought.

I have written, probably, more books for children than any other writer, from story-books to plays, and can claim to know more about interesting children than most.

The little island seemed to float on the dark lake-waters. Trees grew on it, and a little hill rose in the middle of it. It was a mysterious island, lonely and beautiful. All the children stood and gazed at it, loving it and longing to go to it. It looked so secret - almost magic.

I think people make their own faces, as they grow.

Hatred is so much easier to win than love - and so much harder to get rid of.