It's the same with spirit guises; show me a sweet little choirboy or a smiling mother and I'll show you the hideous… — Jonathan Stroud Copy Share Image
“Fifty years isn’t too bad. With luck you might see it happen when you’re a sweet, old granny, dandling big fat babies… — Jonathan Stroud Copy Share Image
“Let's have the baddish one first,' George said. 'I prefer my misery to come at me in stages, so I can acclimatize on the… — Jonathan Stroud Copy Share Image
“You think so?" The boy looked down at his cross-legged form. He was sitting straight-backed, legs folded neatly in the manner of an Egyptian… — Jonathan Stroud Copy Share Image
“This is what the Problem means,” he went on. “This is the effect it has. Lives lost, loved ones taken before their time. And… — Jonathan Stroud Copy Share Image
That did it. I'd gone through a lot in the past few days. Everyone I met seemed to want a piece of me: djinn,… — Jonathan Stroud Copy Share Image
The afrit batted his eyelashes with a ostentatious lack of concern. "Indeed? Have you a name?" "A name?" I cried. "I have MANY names!… — Jonathan Stroud Copy Share Image
“Do you remember,” George went on, “what we found in the tunnels beneath Aickmere’s? Aside from a massive pile of human bones.” “I found” — Jonathan Stroud Copy Share Image
The bristling eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. Mesmerized. the boy watched them disappear under the hanging white thatch of hair. There, almost coyly,… — Jonathan Stroud Copy Share Image
“John Mandrake was an attractive young man, and the scent of power hung about him, sweet and intoxicating, like honeysuckle in the evening air.” — Jonathan Stroud Copy Share Image
“George,' I croaked, 'are you okay?' 'No. Someone's buttocks are flattening my foot.' I shifted my position irritably.” — Jonathan Stroud Copy Share Image
We grow up being told about great figures in our society, and as you get older you have to question the stories you've been… — Jonathan Stroud Copy Share Image
Jabor finally appeared at the top of the stairs, sparks of flame radiating from his body and igniting the fabric of the house around… — Jonathan Stroud Copy Share Image
