“Do you think there’ll be someone in the Xanti who’ll remember your mother?” Finn blew on the embers. “I don’t know. We may not find the Xanti,” he warned her. Maia shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. But if we do, will… — Eva Ibbotson Copy Share Image
“I would let her…have adventures. I would let her…choose her path. It would be hard…it was hard…but I would do it. Oh, not completely, of course. Some things have to go on. Cleaning one’s teeth, arithmetic. But Maia fell in… — Eva Ibbotson Copy Share Image
“They had reached Euston station. Miss Minton waved her umbrella at a porter, and Maia’s trunk and her suitcase were lifted onto a trolley.… — Eva Ibbotson Copy Share Image
“Muriel sprinkled salt over her haddock mousse. ‘It is not easy to be specific, but both morally and hygienically there is . . .… — Eva Ibbotson Copy Share Image
“You’re taking this very well, my boy. Very well indeed. You’re taking it like a man. I confess I expected arguments, even tantrums.” “Well,… — Eva Ibbotson Copy Share Image
She stood looking carefully at the labeled portraits Ursala had put up: Little Crow, Chief of the Santees, Geronimo, last of the Apaches, and… — Eva Ibbotson Copy Share Image
“For the first part of the journey Maia kept her eyes on the side of the road. Now that she was really leaving her… — Eva Ibbotson Copy Share Image
“She realized that adventures, once they were over, were things that had to stay inside one--that no one else could quite understand.” — Eva Ibbotson Copy Share Image
What are you afraid of then? Not Being able to see, I think not seeing because your obsessed by something that blots out the… — Eva Ibbotson Copy Share Image
The sisters worked from dawn to dusk. One of them was an idiot; she started shaving her legs and marrying tax inspectors, so she… — Eva Ibbotson Copy Share Image
“When we’re grown up I’ll come back for you, I promise. No one can stop us then.” — Eva Ibbotson Copy Share Image
“But in the evening, when at last she had a moment alone, she slipped into the library and leaned her head against the mahogany… — Eva Ibbotson Copy Share Image
Please, God,' Ruth would pray, 'don't let me be competitive. Let me realize what a privilege it is to study. Let me remember that… — Eva Ibbotson Copy Share Image
