Philip Pullman Quotes

All she knew was that she must be in love with someone, or she wouldn't feel so miserable.

Being a practiced liar doesn't mean you have a powerful imagination. Many good liars have no imagination at all; it's that which gives their lies such wide-eyed conviction.

But you cannot change what you are, only what you do.

If that was Tom Simms, said Audrey, I’d say he was probably drunk and his mermaid was a porpoise.

She’s mad. Best leave her be, in case it’s catching.

The present Mr. Parslow was teaching his son the craft; the two of them and their three workmen would scramble like industrious termites over the scaffolding they’d erected at the corner of the librar...

Labour without joy is base. Labour without sorrow is base.Sorrow without labour is base. Joy without labour is base. • JOHN RUSKIN

And if we - later on - she was whispering shakily, If we meet someone we like, and if we marry them, then we must be good to them, and not make comparisons all the time and wish we were married to eac...

We love them; they are brave, proud, beautiful, clever; and they die almost at once. They die so soon that our hearts are continually racked with pain. We

And if we wrapped up against the cold, we wouldn’t feel other things, like the bright tingle of the stars, or the music of the Aurora, or best of all the silky feeling of moonlight on our skin. It’s w...

Like two moths clumsily bumping together, with no more weight than that, their lips touched. Then before they knew how it happened, they were clinging together, blindly pressing their faces towards ea...

Middlemarch is a novel that is diminished by being put on the screen. It can't help but be, because so much of what we enjoy in Middlemarch is the interplay between what the characters do and what we...

Even if it means oblivion, friends, I'll welcome it, because it won't be nothing. We'll be alive again in a thousand blades of grass, and a million leaves; we'll be falling in the raindrops and blowin...

Men pass in front of our eyes like butterflies, creatures of a brief season. We love them; they are brave, proud, beautiful, and clever.

Maybe art itself was a kind of voodoo, possessing you, giving you supernatural power, letting you see in the dark.

I shall decide what I do. If you say my work is fighting, or healing, or exploring, or whatever you say, I'll always be thinking about it, and if I end up doing that, I'll feel resentful because it'll...

I think we need to tell each other everything we’ve found out. And it’ll take us a good long time, and we might as well keep our hands busy while we’re doing it, so

Lyra swore with every word she knew.

Mas o que é melhor, almejar a pureza absoluta e fracassar completamente. ou fazer concessões e ter sucesso, mesmo que parcial?

The steamy, noisy kitchen was the safest place in the world, it seemed to him. Safety had never been anything to think about before; it was something you took for granted, like his mother’s endless, e...