For Empire is no more, and now the Lion & Wolf shall cease. —from America: A Prophecy by William Blake
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...
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.
Beacause if they think the Dust is bad, it must be good.
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...
What I couldn't help noticing was that I learned more about the novel in a morning by trying to write a page of one than I'd learned in seven years or so of trying to write criticism.
The particular plant longed for by the wife, which was originally parsley, was a well-known abortifacient.
Mr. makepeace, do you really turn lead into gold?no, of course not. no one can do that. but if people think you're foolish enough to try, they don't bother to look at what you're really doing. they le...
Many good liars have no imagination at all its which gives their lies such wide-eyed conviction
By a scent of grown-upness, something disturbing but enticing at the same time: it was the smell of glamour.
Your death taps you on the shoulder, or takes your hand, and says, ‘Come along o’ me, it’s time.
You going to be a scientist when you grow up? That sort of question deserved a blank stare, which it got.
You don't win races by wishing, you win them by running faster than everyone else does.
Words belong in contexts, not pegged out like biological specimens.
Whatever happened behind now was simply that: behind. Lyra had left it. She felt she was leaving the world altogether, so remote and intent she was, so high they were climbing, so strange and uncanny...
Whatever Mal says, I believe. So take that fucking smile off your face, you.
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...
That’s the duty of the old, said the Librarian, to be anxious on behalf of the young. And the duty of the young is to scorn the anxiety of the old. They
She thought thought that without noticing that she'd thought it, and she soon forgot it, and only remembered it much later.
She had suddenly realized something about people like this -- whether they were businessmen, policemen, civil servants, hotel proprietors, landlords, or what: it was that they didn't mean what they sa...