Fear and realisation of ignorance, strong medicines against stupid pride.
A hundred hundred heartbeats..." whispered Sabriel, tears falling down her face.
Choosers will be beggars if the begging's not their choosing.
Sometimes it is easier to see the light when you stand partly in the darkness.
"It always seemed somehow less real here... a really detailed dream, but sort of washed out, like a thin watercolor. Softer, somehow, even with their electric light and engines and everything. I guess it was because there was hardly any magic.
Clearly the Old One had the capacity to kill - or easily deliver some sort of final ending that sounded remarkably like death.