Gordon Korman Quotes

Ask yourself: 'Do I feel the need to laminate?' Then teaching is for you.

I hate France. It's like the whole country's on a diet

Don't think of it as losing a boyfriend. Think of it as gaining a stalker." -Dan Cahill

The dog always dies. Go to the library and pick out a book with an award sticker and a dog on the cover. Trust me, that dog is going down.

For someone who'e smarter than a supercomputer, sometimes you're a real idiot.

No fair! Those guys ripped off what we rightfully stole!

In our family, you don't get a childhood. We're too busy trying to dominate the world.

We didn't stow away!" Dan protested. "You sunk our boat and pulled us out of the canal!" "Good point," Ian agreed. "Return them to the canal. Roughly, please.

Don't have to see," the pilot grunted. "Olga knows the way." "Funny name for an aircraft," Grace commented. "Is it after your wife?" "My gun." Grace stared at him. "You named your plane after a gun?" "It was a very good gun.

Sinead broke in. "The cops need to know what to do with Evan, Amy. What should I tell them?" "Shoot to kill?" Ian suggested.

For someone who's smarter than a supercomputer, sometimes you're a real idiot.

What does it feel like to get shot?" "I don't recommend it," said Nellie in a controlled voice. "Chocolate is definitely better.

Who's Evan?" Ian asked. "Amy's boyfriend!" "Amy, since when do you have a boyfriend?" Ian probed. "Since none of your business!

Ian Kabra rolled up his window. "My god, what's that smell?" Behind the wheel, Sinead laughed. "It's called fresh air. Growing up in London, you've probably never breathed it before." "And I hope I never breathe it again.

You don't get Billie Joe Armstrong's autograph on your forehead without following your instincts.

Oh, no-" They weren't even on the runway, and Jonah's father was already immersed in his BlackBerry. "Remember those 'Live Large with the Wiz Generation' posters? Well, guess how that translates into Chinese- 'Jonah Wizard Makes Your Ancestors Fat'.

We don't have to love it. We just have to steal it.

When we lock things away," he said with conviction, "we're really imprisoning ourselves.

Ask me. I'm a cow expert.

Nellie grinned. "I always wanted to go to Venice. It's supposed to be the romance capital of the world." "Sweet," put in Dan. "Too bad your date is an Egyptian Mau on a hunger strike." The au pair sighed. "Better than an eleven-year-old with a big mouth.

The phone rang in the comm. center. Ian consulted the monitor. "It's Dan." He pressed a button. "Kabra here." Dan's voice crackled through the attic. "Don't say it like that," he complained. "Your name still gives me heartburn.

Why can't you just lie and cheat like the others?" Dan snapped. "Can't you just see that's better than being nice one minute and then turning around and selling us out? It may be very Cahill, but it stinks! Grace had a saying: Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, I'll conk you with this pet carrier!

Global warming doesn't care what's in your bank account." -Sinead Starling

This is an awful thing that’s happened to you, but it’s also presenting you with a rare opportunity. You have the chance to rebuild yourself from the ground up, to make a completely fresh start.

Amy hugged Sinead, and Dan scratched Saladin. "Later, Saladin. Take it easy on Kabra. On second thought, don't.

Ian sighed wanly. "I once had the means to be gaga over art–before I found myself in a country where the standard of beauty is toaster waffles shaped like cartoon characters.

Wonderful. What's the point of throwing a hissy fit without friends and family on hand to hear it?" -Amy Cahill

Dan instantly recognized the angry scratch that stretched from the corner of Ian's eye all the way along the olive skin to his chin. "Have you been messing with Saladin?" "No. Saladin has been messing with me," Ian shot back. "He isn't big on Lucians," Dan explained. "Animals are really good judges of character.

Who's that new guy with the snooty accent who came out and talked to the police?" Evan persisted. "He looks like some kind of male model." "That's just my cousin Ian," Amy explained. "Not much of a family resemblance," Evan noted sourly. "He's like a twenty-fifth cousin, ten times removed." Evan was not satisfied.

The au pair was bug-eyed. "What happened back there?" "It's not our fault!" Dan babbled. "Those guys are crazy! They're like mini-Darth Vaders without the mask!" "They're Benedictine monks!" Nellie exclaimed. "They're men of peace! Most of them are under vows of silence!" "Yeah, well, not anymore," Dan told her. "They cursed us out pretty good. I don't know the language, but some things you don't have to translate.

The Bombyx mori caterpillar," her brother supplied, thinking of snack time at the Shaolin Temple. "It tastes like chicken.

Where's Amy?" Ian put in. "Will you please get her to call that Evan character? He rings here twenty times a day. He's either the most mule-headed person who ever lived, or he really likes your sister. She has to have mercy on him–on all of us!

Dan was suspicious. "How did he find out where we were staying?" Amy frowned. "I think that's the message inside the message. He wants us to know that he has a long reach–that's he's rich and powerful." "Like we'll see his giant mansion and assume he works at Burger King," scoffed Dan.

Your pants didn't get smaller, Mommy," I assured her. "Your butt got bigger.

Jonah peered critically up at the Renaissance masterpiece. "Man, those copies don't due it justice. This one's the truth!" "Only a Janus," groaned Hamilton.

Art theft gave a guy an appetite.

Challenge isn't going to come from any curriculum, no matter how hard they make it. It's going to come from life.

There's always a way," his sister lectured. "We'll need help, though." "What help?" Amy grinned. "Sometimes it doesn't hurt to be a part of the most powerful family in human history.

Nobody got me out," Nellie replied. "They just let me go. They think I'm a deranged Jonah Wizard fan. Apparently, the hotel's full of them. A couple of idiots actually jumped off the front balcony. Can you picture that?" "In Technicolor," Amy said bitterly. "That low-down KGB reject!" Dan fumed. "I can't believe she cheated me–right when I was in the middle of cheating her!

If the cake fits, eat it!

Dan inched closer. "Are her eyelids moving?" Jonah was on his feet now, cheerleading. "Get up, babysitter! Up! Up!

If it isn't on YouTube, it might as well have never happened.

How you are in this place that has been sealed since the time of Caesar Augustus?" one of the archaeologists demanded in amazement. "I was looking for my sister," Dan quipped. "Your sister?" "Oh—here she is." Dan reached through the opening and hauled out an equally grubby Amy.

Amy was profoundly shocked. "A little over an hour ago, our bus was attacked by three men in ski masks. They definitely knew me, and probably Dan, too. We fought them off, but it could've gone either way." "Like if they'd used a cookie truck instead of a gas tanker," Dan added. "Nobody's scared of Oreos.

He watched in awe as she stacked up an enormous armload of music. "There," she finished, slapping Frank Zappa's Greatest Hits on top of the pile. "That should do for a start." "You are a music lover," said the wide-eyed cashier. "No, I'm a kleptomaniac." And she dashed out the door. He was so utterly shocked that it took him a moment to run after her. With a meaningful nod in the direction of the astounded Cahills, she barreled down the cobblestone street with her load. "Fermati!" shouted the cashier, scrambling in breathless pursuit. Nellie let a few CDs drop and watched with satisfaction over her shoulder as the clerk stopped to pick them up. The trick would be to keep the chase going just long enough for Amy and Dan to search Disco Volante. Yikes, she reflected suddenly, I'm starting to think like a Cahill.... And if she was nuts enough to hang around this family, it was only going to get worse.

Yeah!" shouted Jonah, twirling the much larger Hamilton around the restaurant in a victory dance. The other diners watched in amazement. This wild display was hardly the public image of the too-cool-for-school Jonah Wizard. "What's the matter?" Hamilton challenged. "Haven't you ever seen a happy rapper before?

Jonah spoke what everyone was thinking. "Wouldn't it be Twilight Zone if the door was open, too?" Hamilton tried the knob. It didn't budge. Ian stepped forward and examined the lock. "Natalie's diary has better security than this." He produced a credit card and slipped it between the latch and the jamb. There was a click, and the door swung wide.

The key to the city of Florence was about two feet long, and painted a garish gold. Hamilton was fascinated by it. "Wow! How big is the lock?" Jonah laughed. "There is no lock, cuz. It's an honorary gig. Back in my crib in LA, I've got a whole shed full of keys from different cities. Want to know the kicker? I can't get at them. The gardener lost the key to the shed.

Nellie's brow furrowed. "The great Mr. Hip-Hop Mogul standing in line with the common peasants? How do you figure that?" Dan grinned. "I'm starting to dig this 'no cars' thing. It's a great equalizer.

They've got these things called lockers," I raved on. "The Halls are lined with them. And you won't believe what they're for! They're for locking stuff away-so other people won't steal it! Why can't everyone share?" ~ Cap

Here's some more stuff we're going to need." 1 pair coveralls 1 extension ladder (30 foot) 1 glass cutter 1 artist's portfolio (large) 1 water pistol 1 bottle india ink 1 portable trampoline (collapsible) 1 bicycle w/basket 4 pizza boxes Jonah whistled. "I hope you've got some crazy evil-genius strategy, 'cause–straight up–I don't get it.

Amy, since when do you have a boyfriend?

Slime him, sis," Dan urged, "Make him a redcoat.

Come on, who saw what happened?" "I did," I volenteered. "Well?" "Buttwipe wanted to know what jerkface was looking at." I turned turned eyes on the bloody and dirt-smeared brawlers. "You were barely 3-inches apart. Couldn't you see that you were both looking at each other?" The teacher's face reddened. "Who do you think you are? Jerry Seinfeld?" "You must be confused with another student," I told him. "My name is Capricorn Anderson.

Hamilton had a complaint. "Why did you have to tell the cops I'm your boyfriend? That's gross, Amy. We're related!" Amy was disgusted. "We had a common ancestor, like, five hundred years ago. Besides, if they think we're together, we only have to come up with one story, and I can do all the talking." "Hey, I got an early acceptance to Notre Dame," Hamilton said defensively. "I can talk." "Of course you can," Amy soothed. "It's what you say that might get us into trouble.

Be the Ambulance. Make toast.

Ow!" "Hold still," Sinead ordered. "And don't be such a baby." She dabbed at the angry red mark behind Ian's ear. "Cat scratches are prone to infection, you know." "And that's my fault?" Ian raged. "Why don't you lock that animal in the cellar? Or, better still, send him to a violen string factory! Ow! What is this stuff–acid?" "My own concoction," she replied cheerfully. "Amy and I use it on our blisters when we do marathon training. Soothing, right?" "They practice this kind of soothing in the Lucian stronghold–during interrogations.

They crested a rise, and there it was, in the hollow between rolling hills—a low, square building, ghostly gray in the moonlight. "Is that it?" asked Hamilton. "It probably isn't the local opera house," groaned Ian.

The computer beeped as the upload completed. A moment later, Ian Kabra appeared on the screen. Dan was surprised. "Hey, Ian, isn't it, like, two in the morning back there?" "It's called jet lag," Ian informed him. "I'm still on London time. I don't suppose you savages have any tea in this mausoleum." "There's a diet Snapple in the fridge." Ian shuddered. "I thought not.

Free food!" mumbled Hamilton, his mouth full. "No wonder you're rich. You don't have to pay for anything." "Since when is it free?" Jonah demanded. "If I don't leave a big tip, it'll be all over Europe that the Wiz is a cheapskate! They'll seat me behind the sound-man from the penguin movie at the Oscars!

What did Romeo and Juliet do?” They died,” I remind her gently. “Some mix-up with the poison-

Change of plan–," she called to Jonah. "Can you drop us off in Rome?" "Yo, am I a movie star or a taxi service?" Jonah grumbled from the depths of the script pile. "Technically, your neither," Hamilton puffed, lifting weights again. "I mean, you're a star and you've made movies...

I'm starving. When we check into our hotel, let's ask the desk clerk where we can find one of those vast pizzas." "What are you talking about?" "Your guidebook says Florence is a city of vast pizzas. Look it up yourself." "Those are vast piazzas, not pizzas! It means public squares!" Dan's face fell. "Oh." Amy sighed. "I honestly thought the clue hunt took the dweeb out of you. No such luck.

If it looks like a duck, and it quacks like a duck, it’s probably a duck.

I've been victimized but that doesn't mean I have to be a victim.

Dan moved forward and replaced Jonah at the helm. "I've got a plan!" "That's my man!" The famous grin disappeared as Jonah took in the grim determination in Dan's features. His expression was as flat and expressionless as a naked skull. Dan steered the hurtling boat directly toward the rocky shore. "Amy, hang onto that painting!" "That's not a plan!" Jonah shouted. "That's suicide!

Fiske spoke sharply to the four walls. "We need medical attention immediately. We have a gunshot wound that requires treatment." "You're not going to get through to them by talking like an English professor," scoffed Reagan. "Hey!" she bawled. "Get a doctor down here! She's in pain, thanks to you! What are you going to do about it?

The test! It was as if they believed the test was an infallible superbeing that had descended to earth on a great space ark surrounded by thunderbolts of perfection.

What was so wrong about the old me that now I have to be somebody else?

Yeah, Rubio,” snorts Bear. “If I had a face like yours, I’d appreciate anyone who could make me look good. So shut up.

Hamilton was bug-eyed. "Who are those people?" Jonah held his head. "Man, I should have known it was a mistake to say I'd be leaving town soon! Why do fans have to be so literal?" "Are they going to let us go get the faxes?" Hamilton asked. Jonah stared at him. "You're kidding, right?

Dan, this is crazy!" Amy quavered. "You can't drive a boat!" "Say's who? It's no different from Xbox!" Wham! The port-side rubber bumper at the launch's bow slammed into the end of an ancient cobblestone wharf. The small craft spun like a top, pitching Amy to the deck. Only an iron grip on the wheel saved Dan from a similar spill. He hung on for dear life. "Okay, scratch Xbox–think bumper cars! I rock at those! Remember the carnival?

Nellie Gomez awoke to a splitting headache. Worse, she was still hungry. "Where's my croissant?" she demanded of the person leaning over her. "Dear child," came a strangely familiar voice. "Don't 'dear child' me!" she snapped. The twenty-two-year-old punk rocker ran black-polished fingernails through black-and-orange-dyed hair, which did nothing to soothe the pounding behind her black-shaded eyes. "Give me my croissant or I'll–" It was then that she suddenly realized she was threatening the venerable Alistair Oh. "Alistair, what are you doing here?

You know what punk is? a bunch of no-talent guys who really, really want to be in a band. Nobody reads music, nobody plays the mandolin, and you're too dumb to write songs about mythology or Middle-earth. So what's your style? Three chords, cranked out fast and loud and distorted because your instruments are crap and you can't play them worth a damn. And you scream your lungs out to cover up the fact that you can't sing. It should suck, but here's the thing - it doesn't. Rock and roll can be so full of itself, but not this. It's simple and angry and raw.

Sugar maple!" Mary-Todd Holt knelt over her husband. "Are you all right?" Eisenhower sat up, and egg-size lump blooming on his crown. "Of course I'm all right!" he managed, his words slurred. "You think a little insect can stop me?" Reagan was unconvinced. "I don't know, Dad. She brained you with a baseball bat!" "Hockey stick," Dan corrected. "Those could be your last words, brat–

Hamilton dabbed a tissue at the cut under his eye. "Except for the time I met the Great Khali, that was the coolest thing I've ever done!" The foursome, only slightly the worse for wear, stood on the tarmac of the small airfield outside Milan, transferring their luggage from the limo to Jonah's jet for the flight back to Florence. "You didn't do anything, yo," Jonah seethed. "It was done to all of us by the freak show with the nerve to complain that the family branches are too violent!

You two have to promise to be careful!" Sinead handed Amy a small plastic bag. "I made you a going-away present–a high-powered miniature smoke bomb. Could come in handy against the Vespers. It works with knockout gas, so I tossed in a couple of breathing filters." "That's the Cahill equivalent of a Hallmark moment," Dan observed. "A smoke bomb. When you care enough to send the very best–explosives." "I'm not a flowers-and-candy kind of girl," Sinead informed him.

All at once, Darren's voice called, "I've got it! It's here!

We’re all proud of you, Donnie. Your mother and me, Katie—” “Right,” I snorted. “She said I’m dumber than her bladder-challenged dog.

Why? There was no logical explanation for what I did. It had to come from my DNA. That’s why I needed ancestry.com.

According to the mate, there were three main jobs that needed to be done to ensure their survival.

Welcome to the world of Cahills. If it isn't impossible, it isn't worth doing.

Justice and fairness aren't just part of the social studies curriculum, you know. They're the building blocks of our entire society.

Our fans are great; our team is nifty! We’re going to get blown out by fifty!

It was no place for a Kabra, not even a poor one living in exile with a psychopathic cat. He approached the counter and rand the bell with authority. The clerk turned around. Evan Tolliver. "You're Amy's cousin!" "Yes, I am," Ian confirmed. "I have here a list of items–" "Have you heard from her?" Evan interrupted. "Is she okay?" "Her health is excellent." "No, I mean–" Ian sighed. "Why should you care? She promises to phone you, and she doesn't. You were nearly arrested, thanks to her. There's a message in there somewhere, don't you agree?" Evan nodded sadly. "I kind of think so, too. But we were awesome together. She's smart, fun to be with, and not immature like most of the girls in our school. It's as if she has an automatic switch for when it's time to be serious–she can almost be old beyond her years at times. Where do you learn something like that?" "I have no earthly idea," Ian lied.

Desperately, Phoenix attempted to maneuver both tips of the instrument around the bullet. He knew that each move caused Nellie unimaginable pain, but he could not grasp the target. "It's no use," he sobbed. "And my hand is going numb." In a frenzy, Nellie shouted something into the gag, but no one could understand her. "I beg your pardon, child?" queried Alistair. Nellie spat out the rag and rasped, "Get the Kabra chick!" "Natalie?" Fiske exclaimed. "She's fallen completely to pieces." "Get her!" Nellie demanded. "Anybody with eyebrows plucked like that knows how to use a tweezers!" Reagan bounded across the room and came back with a shivering, mewling Natalie. "I can't!" she wheezed. Fiske poured alchohol over the girl's beautifully manicured fingers. "You must." Still protesting, her eyes tightly shut, she took over the instrument from Phoenix. "I can't do it! You can't make me—oh!" She said in sudden surprise. "This?" And when she pulled the tweezers out of the wound, the tips were firmly grasping a flattened, blood-slimed bullet. Nellie laughed—and promptly fainted.

A bronze plaque read: GAIUS PLINIUS CAECILIUS SECUNDUS Dan made a face. "Get a load of the guy with the funny name." "I think that's Pliny the younger, the famous Roman writer," Amy supplied. She bent down to read the English portion of the tablet. "Right. In A.D. 79, Pliny chronicled the destruction of Pompeii by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius. It's one of the earliest eyewitness accounts of a major disaster." Dan yawned. "Doesn't this remind you of the clue hunt? You know–you telling me a bunch of boring stuff, and me not listening?

Just because you’ve got anger management problems doesn’t mean there isn’t plenty to be ticked off about.

Hypothesis: Intentional or not, movement to a beat = dancing.

But a dead man doesn’t care what uniform he’s wearing.

We can’t change the past. All we can do is work hard to make things right in the future.

Amy turned to Nellie. "Can you create a diversion to draw the clerk outside?" The au pair was wary. "What kind of diversion?" "You could pretend to be lost," Dan proposed. "The guy comes out to give you directions, and we slip inside." "That's the most sexist idea I've ever heard," Nellie said harshly. "I'm female, so I have to be clueless. He's male, so he's got a great sense of direction." "Maybe you're from out of town," Dan suggested. "Wait–you are from out of town." Nellie stashed their bags under a bench and set Saladin on the seat with a stern "You're the watchcat. Anybody touches those bags, unleash your inner tiger." The Egyptian Mau surveyed the street uncertainly. "Mrrp." Nellie sighed. "Lucky for us there's no one around. Okay, I'm going in there. Be ready." The clerk said something to her–probably May I help you? She smiled apologetically. "I don't speak Italian." "Ah–you are American." His accent was heavy, but he seemed eager to please. "I will assist you." He took in her black nail polish and nose ring. "Punk, perhaps, is your enjoyment?" "More like a punk/reggae fusion," Nellie replied thoughtfully. "With a country feel. And operatic vocals." The clerk stared in perplexity. Nellie began to tour the aisles, pulling out CDs left and right. "Ah–Artic Monkeys–that's what I'm talking about. And some Bad Brains–from the eighties. Foo Fighters–I'll need a couple from those guys. And don't forget Linkin Park..." He watched in awe as she stacked up an enormous armload of music. "There," she finished, slapping Frank Zappa's Greatest Hits on top of the pile. "That should do for a start." "You are a music lover," said the wide-eyed cashier. "No, I'm a kleptomaniac." And she dashed out the door.

You know how eighth graders are anti-everything? Well, sixth graders are the opposite of that. They’re super gung ho, since being in middle school is still a big deal for them. Give them a year—they’ll wise up.

They don't have regular time at school, you know. They have periods. All of a sudden an alarm goes off and you're supposed to drop what you're doing and rush off to a different room with a different teacher to do something completely different! How can anybody learn like that?

Maybe they were. Very little was beyond Noah’s capabilities when he wasn’t mounting a concerted effort to flunk.

You’re going to break your idiot neck one day, or someone’s going to break it for you.

During construction, when a worker died, his body was built right into the Wall itself. No one knew how many corpses lay within the stone and mortar, but some estimates ran as high as three million souls.

Check it out." Jonah removed the bubble wrap and held up the picture for his three cousins. Dan took a step backward. The shock was almost as powerful as it had been the day before at the Uffizi. "It's perfect! It's every bit as disgusting as the real one!" Amy nodded. "And so fast. We only called you yesterday." Jonah shrugged. "Even the Janus take a short cut every now and then. You can do a lot with digitization these days. You break the picture down to squares and reproduce them one at a time. The other two are just as fly." "You mean, hog ugly," Hamilton amended. "The serpents don't help," Dan put in critically. "Live fat spaghetti. Lady, if you're thinking of a modeling career, forget it!" The rapper clucked sympathetically. "You guys just don't appreciate the power of the visual image. The Wiz used to be like that–until Gangsta Kronikles. When you're in film industry, you understand the whole picture's-worth-a-thousand-words deal." Hamilton rolled his eyes. "Here we go again.

Hey, things like that happen at the Academy too,” I insisted, almost triumphantly. “Last year the freezers failed so there was no ice for”—the wind went out of my sails as I realized how lame this was going to sound—“the sushi bar.” He nodded sympathetically. “You guys should get T-shirts made. You know: I Survived the Sushi Crisis.

Dear Mr. Weston, Hello again. We were beginning to wonder what had happened to you. I guess things have been pretty quiet since the Salvation Army tried to take over the world. We are sorry, but after much deliberation we have elected not to assign any men to Protect Trillium Air Base. We feel that the Forces can protect themselves, and if they can't, who is going to protect the country? Also, thank you for sending us that shard of broken glass with the fingerprint on it. It was yours. Our mail clerk required four stitches and a tetanus shot. Relay our condolences to your Mr. Waghorn. We have no idea what unfortunate circumstance (for him) drew him to your ever-watchful attention, but he has no criminal record and his face is not known to us. Yours Sincerely, Bruce Hmmm, thought Sidney, Waghorn has no criminal record. "Let me see one of those," said Tom. "I'm sorry, Tom, but I can't show you the letters." Tom muttered something about a lack of trust. He was extremely alarmed at the intensity of Sidney's expression. As Sidney himself would have put it, the investigation was progressing. That meant trouble. There was always trouble when his brother got to the letter-writing stage. Tom would have to stay on his toes. Sidney opened the last letter. Dear Mr. Weston, Please stop bothering us. Cordially yours, The Ontario Provincial Police.