A book is like a door. You walk through the cover and you don't know what you're going to find. — Emily Rodda Copy Share Image
“The light that gleams at their back door Will guide you from the lonely shore, But dangers seek you as you go, One from… — Emily Rodda Copy Share
In ancient days, Deltora was divided into seven tribes. The tribesfought on their borders but otherwise stayed in their own place. Each had a… — Emily Rodda Copy Share
“Look for the hand that points the way, And take the path where children play. Then where the face with breath that sighs Bends… — Emily Rodda Copy Share
“So, very soon our captives will meet their small countrywoman again. How grateful they must be to have a pleasant ride, with us to… — Emily Rodda Copy Share
“Five strange fingers from fate's hand, Each plays its part at fate's command. The fiery blaze the answer keeps. And till its time each… — Emily Rodda Copy Share
“Nothing here is as it seems; Dreams are truths, and truths are dreams. Closed your ears to loved ones' cries; Die if you believe… — Emily Rodda Copy Share
A book is like a door. You walk through the cover and you don't know what you're going to find. — Emily Rodda Copy Share
“Beneath soft looks evil burns, And slowly round the old wheel turns. The same mistakes, the same old pride, The priceless armour cast aside.… — Emily Rodda Copy Share
“Fearing, you climbed the mountain. Fearing, you faced its dangers. And fearing, you went on. That is real bravery, Rowan. Only fools do not… — Emily Rodda Copy Share
I don't want to write things that people don't want to read. I would have no pleasure in producing something that sold 600 copies… — Emily Rodda Copy Share
“Bad child, wicked child, push you in the bin, Out with the rubbish on your chin, chin, chin, Up pops and ishkin, then it… — Emily Rodda Copy Share
“We are a fine party of heroes. Half drowned, half frozen, half dead with tiredness and sick to our stomachs through drinking half the… — Emily Rodda Copy Share
“To mix the brew that wakes Death sleep Fill one spread hand with silver deep. In hungry pool moons raise their heads: Pluck one… — Emily Rodda Copy Share
