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 idea to paper, does something else of a quite different kind, so as to acquire new… — 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 lost that is found, the harp of gold. Then Fig-hat Ben shall wear a shroud, Then shall the despoiler, that was so proud, Plunge headlong down from Devil's Leap; Then shall the Children from darkness creep,… — Joan Aiken Copy Share
“They came to the high stone shaft with the face of Sul; they descended to the terrace below. And here Caradog waited, leaning on his silver-tipped rod and eying the horizon, until the delicate slip of the new moon moved out from behind the shoulder of Mount Damyake, with the mysterious, shadowy ghost of the old moon cradle inside it,… — Joan Aiken Copy Share
“He paused a moment, gazing in awe at the huge mass of buildings composing the castle. It stood close to the river, on either side and to the rear stretched the extensive park and gardens, filled with splendid trees, fountains and beds of brilliant flowers in shades of pink, crimson, and scarlet. The castle itself was built of pink granite,… — Joan Aiken Copy Share
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
