Diana Wynne Jones (16 August 1934 – 26 March 2011) was a British writer, principally of fantasy novels for children and adults.
I can't abide people who go soft over animals and then cheat every human they come across!
He picked up the skull and knocked an onion ring out of its eye socket. "I see Sophie has been busy again. Couldn't you have restrained her, my friend?" The skull yattered its teeth at him. Howl put it down rather hastily.
She said 'Over my dead body!' so I took her at her word.
Really, these wizards! You'd think no one had ever had a cold before! Well, what is it?" she asked, hobbling through the bedroom door onto the filthy carpet. "I'm dying of boredom," Howl said pathetically. "Or maybe just dying.
Typical! I break my neck trying to get here, and I find you peacefully tidying up!
Tell me about this Wizard Howl of yours. " "He's the best wizard in Ingary or anywhere else. If he'd only had time, he would have defeated that djinn. And he's sly and selfish and vain as a peacock and cowardly, and you can't pin him down to anything. " "Indeed? Strange that you should speak so proudly such a list of vices, most loving of ladies. " "What do you mean, vices? I was just describing Howl. He comes from another world entirely, you know, called Wales, and I refuse to believe he's dead!
What a strange family you are! Is your name Lettie too?
Christopher discovered that you dealt with obnoxious masters and most older boys the way you dealt with governesses: you quite politely told them the truth in the way they wanted to hear it, so that they thought they had won and left you in peace.
There were horrendous, dramatic, violent quantities of green slime—oodles of it. It covered Howl completely. It draped his head and shoulders in sticky dollops, heaping on his knees and hands, trickling in glops down his legs, and dripping off the stool in sticky strands. It was in oozing ponds and crawling pools over most of the floor. Long fingers of it had crept into the hearth. It smelled vile.
You're wearing that hat? After all the magic I used to make your dress pretty?" ~Howl from the movie 'Howl's Moving Castle
Writing for adults, you have to keep reminding them of what is going on. The poor things have given up using their brains when they read. Children you only need to tell things to once.
Sophie said a bad word. In the dim light she had stubbed her toe on one of the many dusty bricks piled around the place. Naughty-naughty" Twinkle said. Oh shut up!" Sophie said , standing on one leg to hold her toe. "Why don't you grow up?
I've got a hangover!" "No, you hit your head on the floor," Sophie said. Howl rose up on his hands and knees with a scramble. "I can't stay," he said. "I've got to rescue that fool Sophie. " "I'm here!" Sophie shook his shoulder. "But so is Mis Angorian! Get up and do something about her!
Nobody can buy a hat without gossiping.
By this time, half the people in High Norland were gathered in Royal Square to stare at the castle. They all watched with disbelief as the castle rose slightly into the air and glided toward the road that led southward. It was hardly more than an alley, really. "It'll never fit!" people said. But the castle somehow squeezed itself narrow enough to drift away along it and out of sight. The citizens of High Norland gave it a cheer as it went.
This is the mythosphere. It's made up of all the stories, theories and beliefs, legends, myths and hopes, that are generated here on Earth. As you can see, it's constantly growing and moving as people invent new tales to tell or find new things to believe. The older strands move out to become these spirals, where things tend to become quite crude and dangerous. They've hardened off, you see.
A fickle heart is the only constant in this world
To love someone enough to let them go, you had to let them go forever or you did not love them that much.
Do you mind not being so kind and obedient? It makes me nervous.
Look. Survey. Inspect. My hair is ruined! I look like a pan of bacon and eggs!