I really like Septimus Heap. he is my favorite guy in the story. I should make you all read it.

Things have a habit of working out, you know. Eventually.

...yelling doesn't make a thing any more possible.

When the Fyre inside is kindled and when the Time Is Right, anything is possible.

You can't just rattle it off like a demented parrot.

You could give us a hand instead of staring into space like a constipated camel," Terry Tarsal rudley broke into Marcia's spinning thoughts.

Beauty Lures the Stranger More Easily into Danger -Septimus Heap

the chocolate raisins tasted somewhat fishy, but Lucy didn't care-chocolate was chocolate. She changed her mind however, when she realized that the raisins were tiny fish heads.

They would all be sorry... particularly the duck.

Blue to get ready Green to go Yellow to guide you through the snow Orange to warn you that over you’ll go Then red will be the final glow Now seek the black, there’s no going back.

Life was simple when you were a Shield Bug.

In examinations the foolish ask questions that the wise cannot answer.

Childhood anxieties, childhood fears, never disappear entirely. They fade, but not away.

Dissent is the highest form of patriotism.

If you're writing anything decent, it's in you, it's your spirit coming out. If it's not an expression of how a person genuinely feels, then it's not a good song done with any conviction.

When the Jews leave Russia, Communism will collapse there. World Jewry is today relocating to America. Thus the real threat of Communism in America has just begun.

Also expressionistic filmmaking - making the audience feel like they were inside the characters' heads. And so we create all these different types of techniques to put the audience there.

I love characters who are clever and smart, and you have to run to catch up with. I think there's something very appealing and rather heroic in that.

I'm incredibly nostalgic for the '80s, because I think that's when Geek Culture really kicked in to high gear.

Of what is the body made? It is made of emptiness and rhythm. At the ultimate heart of the body, at the heart of the world, there is no solidity. Once again, there is only the dance.

Sing, O muse, of the rage of Achilles, son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans.