I was observing her closely as I talked, and after a while I began to get the impression that she was not, in fact, quite so merry and smiling a girl as I had been led to believe at first. She seemed to be coiled in herself, as though with a secret she was jealously guarding. The deep-blue eyes moved too quickly about the room, never settling or resting on one thing for more than a moment; and over all her face, though so faint that they might not even have been there, those small downward lines of sorrow.

You is getting nosier than a parker.

...the more risks you allow children to take, the better they learn to take care of themselves. If you never let them take any risks, then I believe they become very prone to injury. Boys should be allowed to climb tall trees and walk along the tops of high walls and dive into the sea from high rocks... The same with girls. I like the type of child who takes risks. Better by far than the one who never does so.

Fiona has the same glacial beauty of an iceburg, but unlike the iceburg she has absolutely nothing below the surface.

Meanings is not important, said the BFG. I cannot be right all the time. Quite often I is left instead of right.

Had I not had children of my own, I would have never written books for children, nor would I have been capable of doing so.

Writing is mainly perspiration, not inspiration.