Quotes from Eva Ibbotson

There is a saying that the landscape in which a child spends the first seven years of its life will leave a mark it cannot escape. A child brought up by the sea will always carry a longing for the ocean; a town child, reared to the sound of traffic and the warm bustle of neighbours, will never quite settle in the silence of the countryside.

And then, because they were both Englishwomen and their hearts were somewhat broken, they turned back into the room and put on the kettle and made themselves a cup of tea.

The braver a man is - and Krok had been very brave - the less he will bully little creatures who cannot defend themselves.

The comical dusky down that had covered Anna's head in early childhood had become a waist-length mantle, its rich darkness shot through like watered silk with chestnut, indigo, and bronze. "Over my dead body will you cut your hair.

Rupert looked down at the little upturned face with its mass of freckles and marigold curls and a wave of tenderness for Muriel swept over him. She could so easily have wanted to choose someone of her own. "I think you're going to be absolutely beautiful," he said.

No." She waited, holding back with an innate sense of drama while they floundered hopelessly among lesser materials and commonplace outfits.

She smiled, her face tender in the lamplight. "I wish you had known him. He could make just being alive seem like an act of triumph. People used to smile when they saw him coming… he made everything all right.

For attached to every wedding is that font of hope, that potential piece of manna, the best man.

We've been together for thirty-five years," Alec had said. "We've no call to change now.

He had just spent half an hour cross-examining his butler. Proom's attempts at honorable evasion had withered before the tactics that Rupert had perfected in four years of dealing with his men…. His anger, though perfectly contained, far outstripped Muriel's own.

If the medieval saints had gone to their deaths as to a wedding, the Earl of Westerholme, thought the kind and scholarly vicar, looked as if he was preparing to invert the trend.

What the devil are you doing here?" continued the earl, his customary good manners quite banished by the shock of seeing this girl whose treachery had not prevented her from haunting his dreams, sleeping and waking, ever since she had gone.

Felicity followed felicity.

I'm afraid I'm not very clever." Sir Aubrey looked shocked. "Good heavens, boy, I should hope not! The Taverners have never been bookish. Except your poor father, and look what happened to him.

But in the evening, when at last she had a moment alone, she slipped into the library and leaned her head against the mahogany steps she had climbed the day she knew she was going to the Amazon. The dream she had dreamed there had been a true one. She had found a land whose riches she had never before imagined, and she had found Finn.

He wants to name me officially as heir to Westwood and give me an allowance--quite a big one. And I don't know what to do. He's absolutely certain I'm his grandson. There's a painting of some admiral who's supposed to have my nose…

Then, when he said her name, she opened her eyes. One hand went out to his sleeve. "Can we go now?" she whispered. And he answered. "Yes.

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The interview took place in Miss Banks' private sitting room while Maia waited in the hall, and as soon as she saw Mr. Murray's face, Miss Minton knew there was no hope. She would not even be allowed to look after Maia during the holidays. She was in complete disgrace. Miss Minton had spent the night with her sister and bought another corset, because the good times were gone.

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Duty exists and it's real. It means sharing any gift or talent that you have with people who need it. It means not being afraid or selfish or tight-but open.

There was nothing wistful or tentative about that smile. It came slowly, but ended in a total crunching of her features as though a winged cherub had just flown by and whispered a marvelously funny joke into her ear.

I said a picnic,' said Quin sternly. 'In Britain a picnic means sitting on the ground and being uncomfortable, preferably in the rain.

Daisy offered a mosquito which bit you and gave you yellow fever. 'You turn as yellow as a lemon and then you die,' she said.