Garth Nix Quotes

Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?

My parents are going to kill me!" "That seems rather harsh...

Touchstone watched, suddenly conscious that he probably only had five seconds left to be alone with Sabriel, to say something, to say anything. Perhaps the last five seconds they ever would have alone together. I am not afraid, he said to himself. "I love you," he whispered. "I hope you don't mind.

Maybe if I act well enough, I'll come to believe it myself.

Sometimes it is easier to see the light when you stand partly in the darkness.

Fear and realisation of ignorance, strong medicines against stupid pride.

Let this be my final lesson. Everyone and everything has a time to die.

Five Great Charters knit the land Together linked, hand in hand One in the people who wear the crown Two in the folk who keep the Dead down Three and Five became stone and mortar Four sees all in frozen water.

Choosers will be beggars if the begging's not their choosing.

Who or what are you? Besides insufferably rude?

I love you," he whispered. "I hope you don't mind.

Knowledge, like all things, is best in moderation," intoned the Will. "Knowing everything means you don't need to think, and that is very dangerous.

Often, I get the feeling that the story is really happening somewhere and all I'm doing is trying to work out the best way to tell it.

Please," said Lirael..."I think I would like to work in this Library." "The Library," repeated Sanar, looking troubled. "That can be dangerous to a girl of fourteen. Or a woman of forty, for that matter.

Death and what came after death was no great mystery to Sabriel. She just wished it was.

I am a great believer that anything not expressly forbidden is explicitly allowed.

Choosers will be beggars if the begging's not their choosing," said the Dog "What does that mean?" "I have no idea," said the Dog

Do not tarry, do not stop, no matter what happens.

When the dead do walk seek water's run, for this the Dead will always shun. Swift river's best or broadest lake to ward the dead and have and make. If water fails thee, fire's thy friend, if neither guards it will be thy end.

Charity is a very labour-intensive virtue.

Time and death sleep side by side.

I can see time," whispered Mogget, so softly that his words were lost.

So I'll do that, and I'll do my best and if my best isn't good enough, at least I will have done everything I could, everything that is in me. I don't have to try to be someone else, someone I could never be.

The visions are fragmented and a dark cloud spreads like spilt ink across the pages of possible futures.

Hear, hear," said the Dog, raising her head. "It's always better to be doing, Prince. Besides, you don't smell like a coward, so you can't be one.

As for you, Private, if you mention a word of this to anyone, I'll feed you to the cat thing here. Understand?" "Yum," said Mogget. "Yes, sir!" mumbled the telephone operator, his hands shaking as he tried to smother the burning wreckage of his switchboard with a fire blanket.

I have never known what to tell anybody. Except that it is better to do something than nothing, even if the cost is great.

A Kiss," said Mogget sleepily. "Actually, just a breath would do. But you have to start kissing someone sometime, I suppose." "A breath?" she asked. She didn't want to kiss just any wooden man. He looked nice enough, but he might not be like his looks. A kiss seemed too forward.

But we survived, didn’t we? That makes it an adventure. If you get killed it’s a tragedy.

There is never one absolutely right thing to do. All you can do is honor what you believe, accept the consequences of your own actions, and make the best out of what happens.

For everyone and everything, there is a time to die. Some do not know it, or would delay it, but its truth cannot be denied. Not when you look into the stars of the ninth gate.

If only Sam could have stayed just like the Dog, she thought. A comforting friend without the complication of romantic interest.There had to be something she could do to completely discourage him, short of throwing up, or making herself totally unattractive. "I'm thirty-five," she said at last.

I am not going to change who I am. I am human and I know how to love, and be kind, and be compassionate to those who are weaker than me. Just because I have power doesn't mean I have to use it!

It's always better to be doing.

Why, Yrael?” it said, as the last of the dark gave way to silver, and the shining sphere of metal sank slowly to the ground. “Why?” “Life,” said Yrael, who was more Mogget than it ever knew. “Fish and fowl, warm sun and shady trees, the field mice in the wheat, under the cool light of the moon.

Fine!" muttered Mogget. "Wet, cold, and full of holes. Another fun day on the river.

Yep," said Arthur. Somehow yep seemed the most positive thing he could say. Stronger than yeah and more heroic than yes. He hoped he could live up to it.

I am Abhorsen..." He looked at the baby again and added, almost with a note of surprise, "Father of Sabriel

A hundred hundred heartbeats..." whispered Sabriel, tears falling down her face.

Our parts now -- which perforce we must play -- are not father and daughter, but one old Abhorsen, making way for the new. But behind this, there is always my love.

Be careful..you're all I've got left, to remind me who I really am.

Nick shook his head and found to his surprise that he did have tears left after all. He wasn't surprised by a talking cat. The world was crumbling around him and anything could happen.

Time plays tricks between here and home," said Mogget sepulchrally, frightening the life out of the telephone operator.

Well met, Mistress Lirael. This ragamuffin, as your servant so aptly described him, is His Highness Prince Sameth, the Abhorsen-in-Waiting. Hence the bells. But on to more serious matters. Could you please rescue us? Prince Sameth's personal vessel is not quite what I'm used to, and he is eager to catch me a fish before my morning nap.

He was obviously a very arrogant ragamuffin, and younger than she was, to boot. And he was wearing a necromancer's bells! Apart from that, he was quite handsome, which was another black mark as far as she was concerned.

May I say that I approve of a piece that tries to remake the entire puzzle?

The most important thing is to be true to yourself, however you feel, and not try to feel or behave differently because you think you should, or someone has told you how you must feel. But do think about it. Unexamined feelings lead to all kinds of trouble.

Clearly the Old One had the capacity to kill - or easily deliver some sort of final ending that sounded remarkably like death.

Since being a prisoner was a definite improvement over being dead, which was what she thought was going to happen when the Loundergs had attacked, Suzy was quite cheerful.

Even now, she wished she could write a note, push it across the table, and go away to her room. But she was no longer a Second Assistant Librarian of the Great Library of the Clayr. Those days were gone, vanished with everything else that had defined her previous existence and identity.

I suppose you could call me...Soot," said the thing. "Yes...Soot. I have breathed it, lived in it, and eaten it for so long that it is a fitting name." "Eaten it?" asked Suzy. "Why eat soot?" "Boredom," said Soot.

Just like the Perimeter! It never rains but it pours," declared the Major.

As per usual, trouble comes in several directions at once.

But think of how much worse it would be to sit here, not knowing. Until the Dead choke the Ratterlin and Hedge walks across the dry bed of the river to batter down the door.

Sam picked up his pack, but before he could put it on, Mogget leaped onto it and slid under the top flap. All that could be seen of him were his green eyes and one white-furred ear. "Remember I advised against this way," he instructed. "Wake me when whatever terrible thing is a about to happen happens, or if it appears I might get wet.

Your father is angry with me because he thinks I almost got myself killed,' said Sabriel, with a slight grin. 'I don't understand it myself, since I think he should be glad that I didn't.

I used to think like that at school," Sabriel answered. "Dreaming about the Old Kingdom. Proper Charter Magic. Dead to bind. Princes to be --" "Rescued?

You may call me Mogget. As to what I am, I was once many things, but now I am only several.

Ow do you knock out a Denizen?" asked Suzy. "I tried it myself once or twice, but just hitting them never works." "It is not the force of the blow, but the authority with which it is delivered," quoth the raven.

Be assured that any hurt to your spirit will pass in time. It is the nature of Death to take, but the nature of Life to give.

A passion thwarted will often go astray.

Coils within coils,” murmured the cat. “Fleas upon fleas, idiots begetting idiots—” “What?” “Mmm, just thinking,” whispered Mogget. “You should try it sometimes.

The Clayr saw me, the Wallmaker made me, the King quenched me, the Abhorsen wields me so that no Dead shall walk in Life. For this is not their path.

If an action must be taken that will benefit the majority at the cost of the minority, is it morally indefensible? If an action taken for the benefit of a majority occurs at the expense of a minority, is it moral action?

‎"It always seemed somehow less real here... a really detailed dream, but sort of washed out, like a thin watercolor. Softer, somehow, even with their electric light and engines and everything. I guess it was because there was hardly any magic.

He growled and grimaced as they came to him, and clenched his fists in pain and anger. "Unusual name," commented Mogget. "More of a bear's name, that growl.

Wake me when whatever terrible thing is about to happen happens, or if it appears I might get wet.

I 'ad a toy when I was little,' said Suzy. She frowned for a moment, then added, 'Can't remember what it was. It moved and made me laugh...

I won't let you go! I love you, Dog!' 'There will be other dogs and friends, and loves' whispered the Dog. 'You have found your family, your heritage, and you have earned a high place in the world. I love you too, but my time with you has passed.

I read. And you know 'no offense' means 'I am about to be or have just been fucking offensive.

Don't look, part of his mind said. If you don't see trouble, it doesn't exist. But it does, thought Arthur, fighting down the fear. Keep breathing slowly. You have to confront your fears. Deal with them.

This? It's a feather-coin. I made it.' 'What is it for?' 'It isn't for anything. It's a toy.' 'It's for annoying people,' said Mogget from Sam's pack. 'If you don't put it away, I shall eat it.

For all my longer works (i.e. the novels) I write chapter outlines so I can have the pleasure of departing from them later on.

I hope you find some stories here that you will enjoy, or wonder about, or that linger uncomfortably in the mind when you wish they didn't.

There is always a choice, even if the alternatives don't appear to be equal.

Cats never liked to admit to names. Being named might lead to being held responsible for something.

It is taken care of. Nothing will not break into my Pit or the Far Reaches! I cannot speak for the other parts of the House, but we have Nothing well in hand here. I understand Nothing as no one else does! - Grim Tuesday

I'll sing you a song of the long ago - Seven shine the shiners, oh! What did the Seven do way back when? Why, they wove the Charter then! Five for the warp, from beginning to end. Two for the woof, to make and mend. That's Seven, but what of the Nine - What of the two who chose not to shine? The Eighth did hide, hide all away, But the Seven caught him and made him pay. The Ninth was strong and fought with might, But lone Orannis was put out of the light, Broken in two and buried under hill, For ever to lie there, wishing us ill.

There were also very special or dangerous items that had to be fetched in person, or even by large parties of armed librarians.

Going through the arch, from mud into snow, from bright sun into the pallid luminescence of a snowfall, from her past into her future.

...I don't expect to need rescuing. I'm not that kind of princess.

I am the Disreputable Dog. Or Disreputable Bitch, if you want to get technical. When are we going for a walk?

Please, Mogget,” whispered Lirael, too soft to be heard by anyone at all. But the white shape did hear. It stopped and turned inwards, to face Orannis, changing from a pillar of fire to a more human shape, but one with skin as bright as a burning star. “I am Yrael,” it said, casting a hand out to throw a line of silver fire into the breaking spell-ring, its voice crackling with force. “I also stand against you.

Mogget’s voice. Sam whirled around. “Mogget? Is that you? Where are you?” “Here, and regretting it as per usual,” replied Mogget, and a small white cat sauntered out from behind a fern tree.

Or you could be a serial killer who specializes in reading books, then seeking out the authors and murdering them in horrible ways. (If you happen to fall into that last category, you should know that my name isn’t really Alcatraz Smedry, nor is it Brandon Sanderson. My name is in fact Garth Nix, and you can find me in Australia. Oh, and I insulted your mother once. What’re you going to do about it, huh?)

Alternatives! Probabilities!

Might have been and could have done, neither worth thinking on.

Shakespeare knew too much.

Bee stings are very educational

Unhand my tail!" squealed the Will.

Books help us anchor our souls, or re-anchor them; particularly for us, the left-handed, given the things we have to do.

Garth on naming characters "I spend lots of time on all the names in the books... Sabriel herself, I tried many different combinations of different words, trying to create a new name. In fact, her name comes from trying to combine the heraldic term for black which is Sable, because I wanted something that felt dark and mysterious, with the "iel" ending that you find in angels' names.

Together, the bells and Dog sang a song that was more than sound and power. It was the song of the earth, the moon, the stars, the sea, and the sky, of Life and Death and all that was and would be. It was the song of the Charter, the song that had bound Orannis in the long ago, the song that sought to bind the Destroyer once again.

Ranna," she said aloud, touching the first, the smallest bell. Ranna the sleepbringer, the sweet, low sound that brought silence in its wake. "Mosrael." The second bell, a harsh, rowdy bell. Mosrael was the waker, the bell Sabriel should never use, the bell whose sound was a seesaw, throwing the ringer further into Death, as it brought the listener into Life. "Kibeth." Kibeth, the walker. A bell of several sounds, a difficult and contrary bell. It could give freedom of movement to one of the Dead, or walk them through the next gate. Many a necromancer had stumbled with Kibeth and walked where they would not. "Dyrim." A musical bell, of clear and pretty tone. Dyrim was the voice that the Dead so often lost. But Dyrim could also still a tongue that moved too freely. "Belgaer." Another tricksome bell, that sought to ring of its own accord. Belgaer was the thinking bell, the bell most necromancers scorned to use. It could restore independent thought, memory and all the patterns of a living person. Or, slipping in a careless hand, erase them. "Saraneth." The deepest, lowest bell. The sound of strength. Saraneth was the binder, the bell that shackled the Dead to the wielder's will. And last, the largest bell, the one Sabriel's cold fingers found colder still, even in the leather case that kept it silent. "Astarael, the Sorrowful," whispered Sabriel. Astarael was the banisher, the final bell. Properly rung, it cast everyone who heard it far into Death. Everyone, including the ringer.

Oh, Dog!" Lirael said plaintively, giving the hound a hug. "Why is everything so difficult?" "It just is," said the Dog, woofling gently in her ear. "But sleep will make it seem easier. A new day will bring new sights and smells.

VIDEO ARCHIVE- INTERVIEW 24768 . GOLD-EYE I like trees… grass… only birds in sky. People walking safe. Family No Creatures. Sleep all night safe. Walk under sun in own place. Grow plants. Build. Be father with mother. Have Children. A place like Petar told me. Home. After Change goes back… I want home.

The most important questions—“What are you? Where did you come from?”—had a whole range of answers, starting with “I’m the Disreputable Dog” and “from elsewhere” and occasionally becoming as eloquent as “I’m your Dog” and “You tell me—it was your spell.

I have walked in Death to the very precipice of the Ninth Gate," Abhorsen said quietly. "I know the secrets and horrors of the Nine Precincts. I do not know what lies beyond, but everything that lives must go there, in the proper time. That is the rule that governs our work as the Abhorsen, but it also governs us. You are the fifty-third Abhorsen, Sabriel. I have not taught you as well as I should—let this be my final lesson. Everyone and everything has a time to die.

You are an adventurer!" exclaimed Sylvie. She tore herself away from the window and handed the glasses back to her. "But I suppose that could work. Only, what will happen afterwards?" 'I was planning to worry about afterwards when there is an afterwards," replied Leaf. "And I'm not an adventurer. At least not by choice. I've done that once and learned my lesson. No more adventures without knowing what I'm getting into." "They wouldn't be adventures, then," said Sylvie.

I think I would like to work in the Library.” “The Library,” repeated Sanar, looking troubled. “That can be dangerous to a girl of fourteen. Or a woman of forty, for that matter.” “Only in parts,” said Ryelle. “The Old Levels.” “You can’t work in the Library without going into the Old Levels,” said Mirelle somberly. “At least some of the time. I wouldn’t be keen on going to some parts of the Library, myself.