A children's writer should, ideally, be a dedicated semi-lunatic, a kind of poet with a marvelous idea, who, preferably, when not committing… — Joan Aiken Copy Share Image
since each child reads only about six hundred books in the course of childhood, each book should nourish them in some way… — Joan Aiken Copy Share Image
If reading becomes a bore, mental death is on the way. Children taught to read by tedious mechanical means rapidly learn to… — Joan Aiken Copy Share Image
Children read to learn - even when they are reading fantasy, nonsense, light verse, comics or the copy on cereal packets, they… — Joan Aiken Copy Share Image
A children's writer should, ideally, be a dedicated semi-lunatic, a kind of poet with a marvelous idea, who, preferably, when not committing the marvellous… — Joan Aiken Copy Share Image
“Why do we want to have alternate worlds? It's a way of making progress. ” — Joan Aiken Copy Share Image
You may think it odd that there were three men to look after one tiny station, but the people who ran the railway knew… — Joan Aiken Copy Share Image
“When the Whispering Mountain shall scream aloud And the castle of Malyn ride on a cloud, Then Malyn's lord shall have and hold The… — Joan Aiken Copy Share Image
“They came to the high stone shaft with the face of Sul; they descended to the terrace below. And here Caradog waited, leaning on… — Joan Aiken Copy Share Image
“He paused a moment, gazing in awe at the huge mass of buildings composing the castle. It stood close to the river, on either… — Joan Aiken Copy Share Image
since each child reads only about six hundred books in the course of childhood, each book should nourish them in some way - with… — Joan Aiken Copy Share Image
“the silence behind her was closing and thickening, and becoming coloured, like water into which a brilliant dye is being poured” — Joan Aiken Copy Share Image
Sudden wealth was the great insulator, second only to sudden bereavement. — Joan Aiken Copy Share Image
“It was dusk - winter dusk. Snow lay white and shining over the pleated hills, and icicles hung from the forest trees. Snow lay… — Joan Aiken Copy Share Image
