“Lina liked going to the market plaza. It was always alive with people and animals, and the market had things she'd never seen before-sandals made of old truck tires, hats and baskets woven of straw.” — Jeanne DuPrau Copy Share Image
You know, son, I don't think there's such a thing as an easy life. There's always going to be hard work and there will… — Jeanne DuPrau Copy Share Image
Poppy was now almost well. She still slept more than usual, but when she wasn't sleeping she tromped around the doctor's house pulling spoons… — Jeanne DuPrau Copy Share Image
Now Doon seemed to care for his new friends more than he did for her. Every time she thought about him she felt a… — Jeanne DuPrau Copy Share Image
The trouble with anger is, it gets hold of you. And then you aren't the master of yourself anymore. Anger is. And when anger… — Jeanne DuPrau Copy Share Image
“The trouble with anger is, it gets hold of you. And then you aren't the master of yourself. Anger is.” — Jeanne DuPrau Copy Share Image
“The trouble with anger is, it gets hold of you. And then you aren't the master of yourself anymore. Anger is.” — Jeanne DuPrau Copy Share Image
“Think about what it would mean to fight," he said. "Say we barricade ourselves here in the hotel and refuse to leave. They come at us with their Weapon, whatever it is. Some of us are hurt, some die. We go out to meet them with whatever weapons we can find - sticks, maybe, or pieces of broken glass. We… — Jeanne DuPrau Copy Share
“Lina had never seen anyone so disorganized as the doctor. She peeked into the medicine room once when the doctor was out and was… — Jeanne DuPrau Copy Share Image
People didn't make life, so they can't destroy it. Even if we were to wipe out every bit of life in the world, we… — Jeanne DuPrau Copy Share Image
They lifted their faces to the astonishing warmth. The sky arched over them, a pale, clear blue. Lina felt as though a lid that had been on her all her life had been lifted off. Light and air rushed though her, making a song, like the songs of Ember, only it was a song of joy. She looked at Doon… — Jeanne DuPrau Copy Share
