“I do not think, Prospero,' he said, 'that one should attribute a very high degree of reality to your house.” — John Bellairs Copy Share Image
“Nahum bobbed again. 'My crest is cropped by croaking cranes. I go to drown in doleful dumps, dead-drunk with drearihead.” — John Bellairs Copy Share Image
“He had taken the precaution of closing the inside shutters of the only window, and his staff, though it leaned lightly on… — John Bellairs Copy Share Image
“When he had brushed a thin coat of dust off the pebbled leather cover of one volume, he saw the words: Register… — John Bellairs Copy Share Image
“On a shelf over the experiment table there was the inevitable skull, which the wizard put their to remind him of death, though it… — John Bellairs Copy Share Image
“Then there's no point in our being logical, is there?" said Jonathan... "What do you mean?" said Lewis and Mrs. Zimmerman at the same… — John Bellairs Copy Share Image
“He lived in a huge, ridiculous, doodad-covered, trash-filled two-story horror of a house that stumbled, staggered, and dribbled right up to the edge of… — John Bellairs Copy Share Image
“He selected one of these incantations and began to chant in a loud, wailing voice. All the clocks in the house suddenly went off… — John Bellairs Copy Share Image
“The two weary but still talkative wizards sat in a pair of fan-backed chairs and pitched pebbles at the drunken satyr in the fountain.… — John Bellairs Copy Share Image
“Suddenly the air got colder, and a black cloud appeared - the black cloud that you saw before, since Snodrog was, at bottom, a… — John Bellairs Copy Share Image
He invented the Fuse Box Dwarf, a little man who popped out at you from behind the paint cans in the cellarway and screamed,… — John Bellairs Copy Share Image
“Tarby was a popular boy, and he was used to being right about everything.” — John Bellairs Copy Share Image
“St. Fidgeta is the patroness of nervous and unmanageable children. Her shrine is the church of Santa Fidgeta in Tormento, near Fobbio in southern… — John Bellairs Copy Share Image
“I do not think, Prospero,' he said, 'that one should attribute a very high degree of reality to your house.” — John Bellairs Copy Share Image
“Nahum bobbed again. 'My crest is cropped by croaking cranes. I go to drown in doleful dumps, dead-drunk with drearihead.” — John Bellairs Copy Share Image
