Elizabeth > Elizabeth's Quotes

“That taught us how to block a sword with two knives. But what if an ax man's coming at me?"
Gilan looked suspicious. "An ax man? I don't recommend trying to block an ax with two knives."
But Will wouldn't take no for an answer. "But what if he's charging at me?" Horace walked over.
Gilan looked away. "Uh...shoot him."
Horace intervened. "Can't, his bowstring's broken."
Gilan gritted his teeth. "Run and hide."
Will kept on him. "There's a sheer cliff behind me."
Horace caught on. "There's a sheer cliff behind him, and his bowstring's broken. What should he do?"
Gilan thought for a moment. "Jump off the cliff, it'll be less messy that way.”
― John Flanagan, The Burning Bridge

“Smart people learn from their mistakes. But the real sharp ones learn from the mistakes of others.”
― Brandon Mull, Fablehaven

“Drink the milk.”
― Brandon Mull, Fablehaven

“There is nothing sweeter in this sad world than the sound of someone you love calling your name.”
― Kate DiCamillo, The Tale of Despereaux

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

“It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all—in which case, you fail by default.”
― J.K. Rowling

“Nicholas says that magic isn't inherently good or bad, it's what people do with it that makes it that way. It took me a long time to understand that. Once I did, I realized it isn't magic that separates us from them, or you from me. It's misunderstanding.”
― Virginia Boecker, The Witch Hunter

“He steps forward and grasps my forearms for a moment, then quickly lets his hand drop, almost as though it's not his place to touch me anymore. And it's this: this small forfeiture of custody that makes me realize he's releasing me. Letting me go. That now, after spending half our lives together, we're going to spend the rest of them apart.”
― Virginia Boecker

“It’s a walking cart,” Horace told him. “You get under it, so the spears won’t hit you, and go for a walk.”
― John Flanagan, The Siege of Macindaw

“The wagoner's eyes were wide open. The shock of what had just happened was frozen on his face. His own dagger was buried deep in his chest. 'He fell on his knife. He's dead.' the steward said. He looked up at the Ranger, but saw neither quilt nor regret in his dark eyes. 'What a shame,' said Will Treaty. Then, gathering his cloak around him, he turned and strode from the tent.”
― John Flanagan

“According to some, heroic deaths are admirable things. I've never been convinced by this argument, mainly because, no matter how cool, stylish, composed, unflappable, manly, or defiant you are, at the end of the day you're also dead. Which is a little too permanent for my liking.”
― Jonathan Stroud, Ptolemy's Gate

“One magician demanded I show him an image of the love of his life. I rustled up a mirror.”
― Jonathan Stroud, The Amulet of Samarkand

“A dozen more questions occurred to me. Not to mention twenty-two possible solutions to each one, sixteen resulting hypotheses and counter-theorems, eight abstract speculations, a quadrilateral equation, two axioms, and a limerick. That's raw intelligence for you.”
― Jonathan Stroud, Ptolemy's Gate

“Freedom is an illusion. It always comes at a price.”
― Jonathan Stroud, The Bartimaeus Trilogy Boxed Set

“Besides, if you're going to die horribly, you might as well do it with style.”
― Jonathan Stroud, The Ring of Solomon

“A typical master. Right to the end, he didn’t give me a chance to get a word in edgeways. Which is a pity, because at that last moment I’d have liked to tell him what I thought of him. Mind you, since in that split second we were, to all intents and purposes, one and the same, I rather think he knew anyway.”
― Jonathan Stroud, Ptolemy's Gate

“Burned and squashed to death in a silver vat of soup. There must be worst ways to go. But not many.”
― Jonathan Stroud, Ptolemy's Gate

“Stories never really end...even if the books like to pretend they do. Stories always go on. They don't end on the last page, any more than they begin on the first page.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkspell

“Isn't it odd how much fatter a book gets when you've read it several times?" Mo had said..."As if something were left between the pages every time you read it. Feelings, thoughts, sounds, smells...and then, when you look at the book again many years later, you find yourself there, too, a slightly younger self, slightly different, as if the book had preserved you like a pressed flower...both strange and familiar.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkspell

“Books have to be heavy because the whole world's inside them.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkheart

“So what? All writers are lunatics!”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkspell

“Which of us has not felt that the character we are reading in the printed page is more real than the person standing beside us?”
― Cornelia Funke

“Books loved anyone who opened them, they gave you security and friendship and didn't ask for anything in return; they never went away, never, not even when you treated them badly. Love, truth, beauty, wisdom and consolation against death. Who had said that? Someone else who loved books.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkheart

“The sea always filled her with longing, though for what she was never sure.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkheart

“Writing stories is a kind of magic, too.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkheart

“you can not fully read a book without being alone. But through this very solitude you become intimately involved with people whom you might never have met otherwise, either because they have been dead for centuries or because they spoke languages you cannot understand. And, nonetheless, they have become your closest friends, your wisest advisors, the wizards that hypnotize you, the lovers you have always dreamed of.
-Antonio munoz molinas, "the power of the pen”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkdeath

“And there stood Basta with his foot already on another dead body, smiling. Why not? He had hit his target, and it was the target he had been aiming for all along: Dustfinger’s heart, his stupid heart. It broke in two as he held Farid in his arms, it simply broke in two, although he had taken such good care of it all these years.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkspell

“There could be few men whose love for a woman had been written on his face with a knife.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkspell

“Why did death make life taste so much sweeter? Why could the heart love only what it could also lose?”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkdeath

“The book she had been reading was under her pillow, pressing its cover against her ear as if to lure her back into its printed pages.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkheart