Death and what came after death was no great mystery to Sabriel. She just wished it was.

I sometimes talk to people who think I got published because I was an editor, or because I was an agent, and I have to disabuse them of that notion. It wasn't because of my emplacement within the industry. Actually the writing came first, and the publishing came first as well.

Touchstone watched, suddenly conscious that he probably only had five seconds left to be alone with Sabriel, to say something, to say anything. Perhaps the last five seconds they ever would have alone together. I am not afraid, he said to himself. "I love you," he whispered. "I hope you don't mind.

I certainly have had experiences of a sense of wonder at the world and a feeling that even though it could all be explained rationally, it still feels that there is more to it.

I’m not going,” he said. He held up the Third key like a weapon. Sensing his mood, it grew longer and sharper, till he was holding a trident as long as he was tall... “And anyone who tries to make me is going to suffer.” “Twice,” added the voice under the table.

A hundred hundred heartbeats..." whispered Sabriel, tears falling down her face.

Fear and realisation of ignorance, strong medicines against stupid pride.