Everything means something.

Lonely? I don't know. They tell me this is cold. I don't know what cold is, because I don't freeze. So I don't know what lonely means either. Bears are made to be solitary.

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

Being in love was like China: you knew it was there, and no doubt it was very interesting, and some people went there, but I never would.

What is worth having is worth working for.

It does not make sense. It cannot exist. It's impossible, and if it isn't impossible, it's irrelevant, and if it isn't either of those things, it's embarrassing.

All things from the north are devilish.