She’d read the dictionary all the way through. No one told her you weren't supposed to.
Ordinary fortune-tellers tell you what you want to happen; witches tell you what’s going to happen whether you want it to or not. Strangely enough, witches tend to be more accurate but less popular.
On teachers:
What they did was sell invisible things. And after they’d sold what they had, they still had it. They sold what everyone needed but often didn't want. They sold the key to the universe to people who didn't even know it was locked.
Once you learn about magic, I mean really learn about magic, learn everything you can learn about magic, then you've got the most important lesson still to learn - not to use it.
All the stories had, somewhere, the witch. The wicked old witch. And Tiffany had thought, Where’s the evidence? The stories never said why she was wicked. It was enough to be an old woman, enough to be all alone, enough to look strange because you had no teeth. It was enough to be called a witch.
If you trust in yourself and believe in your dreams and follow your star…you'll still get beaten by people who spent their time working hard and learning things and weren't so lazy.
She's clearly got First Sight and Second Thoughts. That’s a powerful combination.
Some girl who can't tell the difference between a wolf and her grandmother must either have been as dense as teak or come from an extremely ugly family.
It seemed to her that there were times when things didn't divide easily into “true” and “false,” but instead could be things that people needed to know at the moment and things that they didn't need to know at the moment.
The skylarks stopped singing, and while she hadn't really noticed their song, their silence was a shock. Nothing’s louder than the end of a song that’s always been there.
She tried to pretend she hadn't thought that, but she was treacherously good at spotting when she was lying. That’s the trouble with a brain—it thinks more than you sometimes want it to.
They think all writing is magic. Words worry them. See their swords? They glow blue in the presence of lawyers.
“Whut’s the plan, Rob?” said one of them.
“Okay, lads, this is what we’ll do. As soon as we see somethin’, we’ll attack it. Right?”
He’s probably their battle poet. He recites poems that frighten the enemy. Remember how important words are to the Nac Mac Feegle? Well, when a well-trained gonnagle starts to recite, the enemy’s ears explode.
It was very unusual for Granny Aching to say more than a sentence. She used words as if they cost money.
We dinna mourn like ye do, ye ken. We mourn for them that has tae stay behind.
To be alone among strangers would be too much for a heart to bear.
They willna let me play doon there on account o’ them sayin’ my playin’ sounds like a spider tryin’ to fart through its ears.
All the birds and beasts up here know it’s good luck to be friends wi’ the Nac Mac Feegle. Well, to tell ye the truth it’s more that they know it’s unlucky not to be friends wi’ the Nac Mac Feegle.”
Ach, she’s a bit on the big side, no offense to her - if a laddie was tae try tae cuddle this one, he’d have tae leave a chalk mark to show where he left off yesterday.
Tiffany lived on a farm. Any little beliefs that babies are delivered by storks or found under bushes tend to get sorted out early on if you live on a farm, especially when a cow is having a difficult calving in the middle of the night.
The music was strange. There was a kind of rhythm to it, but it sounded muffled and odd, as if it was being played backward, underwater, by musicians who’d never seen their instruments before.
Everything was spun or glazed or added to or mixed up. This wasn't food - it was what food became if it had been good and had gone to food heaven.
They were faraway cheeses with strange-sounding names, cheeses like Treble Wibbley, Waney Tasty, Old Argg, Red Runny, and the legendary Lancre Blue, which had to be nailed to the table to stop it attacking other cheeses.
People who say things like “May all your dreams come true” should try living in one for five minutes.
She’d always thought that the lighthouse was full of light, on the basis that on the farm the cowshed was full of cows and the woodshed was full of wood.
With all the treasure you've stolen, you can pay enough to be very innocent indeed.
The thing about witchcraft is that it’s not like school at all. First you get the test, and then afterward you spend years findin’ out how you passed it. It’s a bit like life in that respect.
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