And then what?" said her daemon sleepily. "Build what?" "The Republic of Heaven," said Lyra.

Was there only one world after all which spent its time dreaming of others?

Lee was too cool by nature to rage at fate; his manner was to raise an eyebrow and greet it laconically.

Maybe sometimes we don't do the right thing because the wrong thing looks more dangerous, and we don't want to look scared, so we go and do the wrong thing just because it's dangerous. We're more concerned with not looking scared than with judging right.

The Lord of the Rings' is fundamentally an infantile work. Tolkien is not interested in the way grownup, adult human beings interact with each other. He's interested in maps and plans and languages and codes.

All good things pass away.

The state of mind which I put myself when I tell a story is one in which superstition flourishes very easily. And I welcome that because it helps me.