Lord, If I Thought You Were Listening,

That's The Duty Of The Old, To Be Anxious On Behalf Of The Young. And The Duty Of The Young Is To Scorn The Anxiety Of The Old.

There's Some That Came Here Never Believing They Were Dead. They Insisted All The Way That They Were Alive, It Was A Mistake, Someone Would Have To Pay; Made No Difference. There's Others Who Longed To Be Dead When They Were Alive, Poor Souls; Lives Full Of Pain Or Misery; Killed Themselves For A Chance Of A Blessed Rest, And Found That Nothing Had Changed Except For The Worse, And This Time There Was No Escape; You Can't Make Yourself Alive Again.

I Have Maintained A Passionate Interest In Education, Which Leads Me Occasionally To Make Foolish And Ill-considered Remarks Alleging That Not Everything Is Well In Our Schools. My Main Concern Is That An Over-emphasis On Testing And League Tables Has Led To A Lack Of Time And Freedom For A True, Imaginative And Humane Engagement With Literature.

What I Couldn't Help Noticing Was That I Learned More About The Novel In A Morning By Trying To Write A Page Of One Than I'd Learned In Seven Years Or So Of Trying To Write Criticism

I Told Him I Was Going To Betray You, And Betray Lyra, And He Believed Me Because I Was Corrupt And Full Of Wickedness; He Looked So Deep I Felt Sure He'd See The Truth. But I Lied Too Well. I Was Lying With Every Nerve And Fiber And Everything I'd Ever Done...i Wanted Him To Find No Good In Me, And He Didn't. There Is None.