Stories Are The Most Important Thing In

Half A Dozen Brats Turned With Expressions Of Derision, And Lyra Threw Her Cigarette Down, Recognizing The Cue For A Fight. Everyone's Daemon Instantly Became Warlike: Each Child Was Accompanied By Fangs, Or Claws, Or Bristling Fur, And Pantalaimon, Contemptuous Of The Limited Imaginations Of These Gyptian Daemons, Became A Dragon The Size Of A Deer Hound.

Lee Saw The Fireball And Head Through The Roar In His Ears Hester Saying, "that's The Last Of 'em Lee." He Said, Or Thought, "those Poor Men Didn't Have To Come To This, Nor Did We." She Said, "we Held 'em Off. We Held Out. We're A-helping Lyra." Then She Was Pressing Her Little Proud Broken Self Against His Face, As Close As She Could Get, And Then They Died.

When It Comes To Telling Children Stories, They Don’t Need Simple Language. They Need Beautiful Language.

I'm Superstitious About The Paper That I Use, For Example. I've Written All My Novels On A Paper Of A Particular Size With Lines Of A Particular Distance Apart And With Two Holes In The Paper For The Folder Clip.

I'm Just Trying To Wake Up - I'm So Afraid Of Sleeping All My Life And Then Dying - I Want To Wake Up First. I Wouldn't Care If It Was Just For An Hour, As Long As I Was Properly Alive And Awake.