Jonathan Stroud Quotes
And then, as if written by the hand of a bad novelist, an incredible thing happened.
Then again, Solomon was human. And that meant he was flawed (Go on, take a look at yourself in the mirror. A good long look, if you can bear it. See? Flawed's putting it mildly, isn't it?)
One magician demanded I show him an image of the love of his life. I rustled up a mirror.
The Amulet of Samarkand. It was Simon Lovelace's. Now it is yours. Soon it will be Simon Lovelace's again. Take it and enjoy the consequences.
Can you define "plan" as "a loose sequence of manifestly inadequate observations and conjectures, held together by panic, indecision, and ignorance"? If so, it was a very good plan.
Burned and squashed to death in a silver vat of soup. There must be worst ways to go. But not many.
Haven't you done enough for a lifetime? Think about it - two power - crazed magicians killed, a hundred power - crazed magicians saved.
When I write something that would have made me laugh as a 10-year-old, or would have scared me or would have excited me, I know I'm onto something.
That's a gesture of endearment in some cultures. Some hug, some kiss, some set each other on fire in small patches of woodland
I wanted to wake you straightaway, but I knew I had to wait several hours to ensure you were safely recovered." "What! How long has it been?" "Five minutes. I got bored.
Hey, we've all got problems, chum. I'm overly talkative. You look like a field of buttercups in a suit.
Check out that one at the end. He's taken the form of a footstool. Weird...but somehow I like his style." "That is a footstool.
Hippo in a skirt: this was a comic reference to one of Solomon's principal wives, the one from Moab. Childish? Yes. But in the days before printing we had limited opportunities for satire.
Most traditional ghost stories feature rather hapless protagonists, who have nasty things happen to them.
He was transfixed at the sight of the lords and ladies of his realm running about like demented chickens.
The mercenary finished his coffee in a single gulp, It must have been piping hot, too. Boy, he was tough.
Minor magicians take pains to fit this traditional wizardly bill. By contrast, the really powerful magicians take pleasure in looking like accountants.
So I departed, leaving behind a pungent smell of brimstone. Just something to remember me by.
Getting that first draft out is a horribly hard grind, but that (perversely) is where the joy of it lies.
When I was young, I kept a diary for about 10 years and I had to write in it every day. Even on days when nothing seemed to happen, I made myself think of something to put in it.
Long ago I dreamed of being a hero in your company" Halli said Huskily "I'm sorry to say your reality disappoints me
If anyone else asked that question, O He Who Is Terrible and Great, I would have said they were an ignorant fool; in you it is a sign of the disarming simplicity which is the fount of all virtue.
There was a loud cough from the man on the stand. I replaced My Magic Mirror carefully on his tray, gave him a cheesy smile, and went my way.
Zealots: Wild eyed persons afflicted with incurable certainty about the workings of the world, a certainty that can lead to violence when the world doesn't fit.
The important thing about any book is that you have to have a good story and that it has to be exciting. Then it's nice to add other levels underneath that people can pick up on.
What was it that drew you back? My marvellous personality, I suppose? Or my sparkling conversation?
Really?""No. I'm being ironic. Or is it sarcastic? I can never remember.""Irony's cleverer, so you're probably being sarcastic.
There was a profound silence, abruptly broken by an enormously loud rumble from George's stomach. Plaster didn't actually fall from the ceiling, but it was close.
In my youth, I was always one for the dramatic entrance. Now, in keeping with my character, I gravitate more toward the subtle and refined. Okay, with the occasional feathered serpent thrown in.
I—though forced through lack of space to assume the form of a stoic guinea pig crouched between the girl's shoe and the glove compartment—was my usual dignified self.
To my astonishment I saw him standing at a table with Kitty Jones. It was the Kitty Jones bit that was astonishing. Not the table. Though it was very nicely polished.
I wanted to wake you straightaway, but I knew I had to wait several hours to ensure you were safely recovered.""What! How long has it been?""Five minutes. I got bored.
It was Nathaniel's boundless capacity for stating the obvious that made him so charmingly human.
Ah, two firm friends, reunited at last! There should be sweet violin music playing for us, but I'll settle for the screams of the dying.
Check out that one at the end. He's taken the form of a footstool. Weird...but somehow I like his style.""That is a footstool.
