At this, Constance sat down on a rock and covered her face. She seemed smaller than ever now - so small the harbor breeze might catch her up like a scrap of paper and carry her away, carry her into nowhere.

Oh, here's a clever one. Do you remember this question from the first test?It reads, 'What wrong with this statement?' And do you know what Constance wrote in reply? She wrote, 'What's wrong with you?

Now listen, we need to be quiet as mice. No, quieter than that. As quiet as...as..." "Dead mice?" Reynie suggested. "Perfect," said Kate with an approving nod. "As quiet as dead mice.

Is this what family is like: the feeling that everyone’s connected, that with one piece missing, the whole thing’s broken?

I think when I started to write The Mysterious Benedict Society that I had that kind of thing in mind - the notion of having to be able to solve puzzles and riddles because enormous stakes rode upon your ability to do that.

Good grief! They're going to call us inside soon, and Sticky hasn't even met Madge yet!" "Who's Madge?" Sticky asked. "Her Majesty the Queen!

Why, then, do you think the white player might have done it?" Reynie considered. He imagined himself moving out his knight only to bring it right back to where it started. Why would he ever do such a thing? At last he said,"Perhaps because he doubted himself.