For several days after my first book was published, I carried it about in my pocket and took surreptitious peeps at it to make sure the ink had not faded.

He was a little boy, and she was grown up. She huddled by the fire not daring to move, helpless and guilty, a big woman.

There are few more impressive sights in the world than a Scotsman on the make.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder… or forgetful.

All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.

How shall we ever know if it's morning if there's no servant to pull up the blinds?

Wendy, Wendy, when you are sleeping in your silly bed you might be flying about with me saying funny things to the stars.