Jacqueline Wilson Quotes

Well, I didn't need them. I didn't need anyone. I was Lola Rose. I just wished I looked more like my idea of Lola Rose.

I try to have reasonably happy endings because I would hate any child to be cast down in gloom and despair; I want to show them you can find a way out of it.

Elsa's joke Where do baby apes sleep? In apricots!

You shouldn't call then anything. They're poor unfortunate people who cannot help the way they look,

will you stop trying to be brave! It's me, Mama! You can be honest with me." -Hetty

I really don't know but I would quote for a book from JACQUELINE WILSON which is a very interesting book of her childhood.

well it about these really naughty girls they made this huge girls gand they stole stuff from shopes and stuff

i love girls under pressure but wouldn't recommend it to people who are under 10. i read it at the age of nine but my sister told me the bit u should never do. all in all, i loved this book and any jacqueline wilson fans over 10 i would recommend it to!

wow it was sad the break up thing in xmas but in the end they got back together but the father soo hush to the children

the first part was awesome the second part were gross but still amazing to me

umm... abit gross it kinda about boyfriend and girlfriend kinda going throw then they break up then they love each other then they make up again and the girl father said u have to come home until 9pm but the girls want more time to be with her boyfriend :)

Pearl rolled a tiny pink speck in her fingers, possibly part of Rose's new leg that I'd tried so hard to make a good match. Pearl laughed and flicked it away as if it was snot out of her nose. I suddenly couldn't stand it. I rushed at her.She saw I wasn't playing around. She ran for it but I caught up with her along the landing. I punched her hard in the chest and she staggered back wards - back and back, and then she wobbled and went right over, down the stairs.

When we were entirely alone in this lush green world, Morgan pulled me gently to him, tipped up my chin and kissed me on the lips. He kissed me, he kissed me, he kissed me . . .

I put both my thumbs under my chin and pushed upwards. Chin up, Shirley, I commanded

I’m mostly laughing, because you’re such an idiot.

me. I don’t want to have to feel grateful all the time.

It was such a relief to realize someone else had a weird vivid inner life like my own!

penises,

Tell-tale tit, your tongue shall be split, and all the little doggies will have a little bit.

ALICE AND I are best friends. I’ve known her all my life. That is absolutely true.

HETTY FEATHER

If I can manage to write up to about a thousand words early in the morning, no matter what else I'm doing that day, I feel at least I've got some work done. Often I find my ideas are clearer then. It's as if I've got all the imagination going through all my dreams as if it's still there in my head. I think that's a good writing tip to pass on. Write when you wake up.

Dad said Aunty Sue was a godsend. If that was so, I wasn’t surprised. God was probably happy to have got rid of her.

The biggest mistake new homeschooling parents make is going into it with an 'all or nothing' mentality. That's a lot of pressure for something you've never done before...

I’ll wheel you into the kitchen, Katy,’ said Clover. ‘I can wheel myself,’ I said. ‘So what have you two been up to?

I try to have reasonable happy endings because I would hate any child to be cast down in gloom and despair, I want to show them you can find a way out of it.

I sniffed and dabbed at my eyes fiercely. I told myself I was only tearful because I was tired.

Everything’s better with cake,

his own crumpled handkerchief on me. I sniffed and dabbed at my eyes fiercely. I told myself I was only tearful because I was tired. I knew Diamond was looking at me anxiously.

I WOKE WITH a start, my head hurting, aching all over. For a moment I didn’t know where I was. Indeed, I felt so fuddled I didn’t even know who I was. Hetty Feather, Sapphire Battersea, Emerald Star? I had three names now.

Could he be my Bertie, the cheeky butcher’s boy? I had walked out with him when I was a reluctant servant in Mr Buchanan’s household. Dear funny Bertie, who had been so self-conscious about reeking of meat. Bertie, the boy who had taken me to the fair and won me the little black-and-white china dog that was in my suitcase now, carefully wrapped in my nightgown to prevent any chips.

Indigenous Lives Holding Our World Together, by Brenda J. Child American Indian Stories, by Zitkala-Sa A History of My Brief Body, by Billy-Ray Belcourt The Falling Sky: Words of a Yanomami Shaman, by Davi Kopenawa and Bruce Albert Apple: Skin to the Core, by Eric Gansworth Heart Berries, by Terese Marie Mailhot The Blue Sky, by Galsan Tschinag Crazy Brave, by Joy Harjo Standoff, by Jacqueline Keeler Braiding Sweetgrass, by Robin Wall Kimmerer You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me, by Sherman Alexie Spirit Car, by Diane Wilson Two Old Women, by Velma Wallis Pipestone: My Life in an Indian Boarding School, by Adam Fortunate Eagle Split Tooth, by Tanya Tagaq Walking the Rez Road, by Jim Northrup Mamaskatch, by Darrel J. McLeod

ABSOLUTELY AMAZING...Children will love it – and adults too!

Why are you sticking up for Dad? Yet you were being mean to Mike who’s ever so nice. And being mean to me too.’ ‘I’m not being mean. Don’t be so childish.’ ‘I’m a child, how else am I supposed to act? And you are being horribly mean. Why are you being so nasty, even saying Sam and Lily are stupid.’ ‘Well they are. And you’re stupid being so obsessed with them. You’re a big baby,’ said Mum. ‘I am not,’ I said, and I shoved her, hard. She was still squatting and so she lost her balance. She fell backwards, legs in the air. ‘Don’t you dare hit me!’ she said. ‘Do that again and I’ll hit you right back.’ ‘I didn’t hit you, I just shoved. This is a hit,’ I said, and I punched her shoulder. It was only a token punch, a feeble little tap, but Mum smacked me hard on my leg. I stared at her, shocked. She’d never ever smacked me before. Mum seemed stunned too. Her face suddenly crumpled and she burst into tears. ‘I don’t know why you’re crying. I’m the one who should be crying – that really hurt,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry,’ Mum sobbed, her head in her hands. She cried and cried. I edged closer and then put my arm round her. She cried even harder, clinging to me. ‘Oh, Beauty, I’m so sorry,’ she gasped. ‘How could I have slapped you like that? You’re right, I was being horribly mean. It’s just I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do for the best. I was awake half the night

p2 I'd seen a photo of the actual red and white checked notebook that was Anne [Frank]'s first diary. I longed to own a similar notebook. Stationery was pretty dire back in the late fifties and early sixties. There was no such thing as Paperchase. I walked round and round the stationery counter in Woolworths and spent most of my pocket money on notebooks, but they weren't strong on variety. You could have shiny red sixpenny notebooks, lined inside, with strange maths details about rods and poles and perches on the back. (I never found out what they were!) Then you could have shiny blue sixpenny notebooks. That was your lot. I was enchanted to read in Dodie Smith's novel I Capture The Castle that the heroine, Cassandra, was writing her diary in a similar sixpenny notebook. She eventually progressed to a shilling notebook. My Woolworths rarely stocked such expensive luxuries. Then, two thirds of the way through the book, Cassandra is given a two-guinea red leather manuscript book. I lusted after that fictional notebook for years. I told my mother, Biddy. She rolled her eyes. It could have cost two hundred guineas - both were way out of our league... My dad, Harry, was a civil servant. One of the few perks of his job was that he had an unlimited illegal supply of notepads watermarked SO - Stationery Office. I'd drawn on these pads for years, I'd scribbled stories, I'd written letters. They were serviceable but unexciting: thin cream paper unreliably bound with glue at the top. You couldn't write a journal with these notepads; it would fall apart in days... My spelling wasn't too hot. It still isn't. Thank goodness for the spellcheck on my computer!

stupid,

scarlet

You come to have tea with us tomorrow and we’ll dress Matty up in her posh frock and she can give us a little twirl.

Where is everything?’ Kendall and I chorused.

gobbledegook.

Mum,

pity’s sake,

said

Hamer-Cotton

„Je to zvláštní - každý rok prožíváme datum své smrti, a přitom o tom ani nevíme. Pokud si ho ovšem nevybereme sami.

MISS LOVEJOY WASN’T impressed by my story. She

Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes!

he’s only got to look at me to see he comes first. First and last and all the stages in between. I

drew a girl in a beautiful bridesmaid’s dress too. Dad and Miss Hope danced together

One of the biggest mistakes new homeschooling parents make is going into it with an 'all or nothing' mentality. That's a lot of pressure for something you've never done before...

p’s and q’s.

I went round the side of the house, and stared at the garden in horror. The ivy had almost taken over. There were still flowers in the borders, but weeds rioted everywhere, choking all the blooms. The stream still trickled in spite of vast tangles of waterweed. I followed it to the end of the garden. The little Japanese house was lurid green with moss. I sat on the cold seat and shut my eyes tight.

you.

by

fumbled

My own father had sold me to a stranger.

Indigenous Lives Holding Our World Together, by Brenda J. Child American Indian Stories, by Zitkála-Šá A History of My Brief Body, by Billy-Ray Belcourt The Falling Sky: Words of a Yanomami Shaman, by Davi Kopenawa and Bruce Albert Apple: Skin to the Core, by Eric Gansworth Heart Berries, by Terese Marie Mailhot The Blue Sky, by Galsan Tschinag Crazy Brave, by Joy Harjo Standoff, by Jacqueline Keeler Braiding Sweetgrass, by Robin Wall Kimmerer You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me, by Sherman Alexie Spirit Car, by Diane Wilson Two Old Women, by Velma Wallis Pipestone: My Life in an Indian Boarding School, by Adam Fortunate Eagle Split Tooth, by Tanya Tagaq Walking the Rez Road, by Jim Northrup Mamaskatch, by Darrel J.

It's not about racing. It's about having fun running. However fast or however slowly. You can start off at the pace you find easiest, Jade.

World Together, by Brenda J. Child American Indian Stories, by Zitkála-Šá A History of My Brief Body, by Billy-Ray Belcourt The Falling Sky: Words of a Yanomami Shaman, by Davi Kopenawa and Bruce Albert Apple: Skin to the Core, by Eric Gansworth Heart Berries, by Terese Marie Mailhot The Blue Sky, by Galsan Tschinag Crazy Brave, by Joy Harjo Standoff, by Jacqueline Keeler Braiding Sweetgrass, by Robin Wall Kimmerer You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me, by Sherman Alexie Spirit Car, by Diane Wilson Two Old Women, by Velma Wallis Pipestone: My Life in an Indian Boarding School, by Adam Fortunate Eagle Split Tooth, by Tanya Tagaq Walking the Rez Road, by Jim Northrup Mamaskatch, by Darrel J.

Oh poor Princess Emerald, you’ve been fated to be frozen all day,’ said Dad, and he wrapped his arms round me.

It seemed so real it truly felt as if we were wrapped in rich furs, gliding over shiny white ice, with polar bears lumbering past, seals barking and waving their flippers, and penguins sliding comically on their tummies down the icy slopes into the black sea.

Do you want to be an actress too?’ I wondered if she was mocking me. ‘I don’t know what I want to be,’ I said. ‘Well, what are you good at?’ said Sarah.

turrets.

I’m not going to get married at all,’ I said. ‘It’s too easy to pick the wrong person. I’m going to live all by myself and I’m going to eat all my favourite things every day and stay up as late as I like, and I shall read all day and write stories and draw pictures with no one bothering me or fussing or needing to be looked after.

Dad bought us food from every single stall on the pier – lemon pancakes and doughnuts oozing jam and salty chips and fluffy candyfloss and 99 ice creams, just as he promised.

delved

agate

Seven

Chapter Three

Two

Jodie was sitting up in bed, arms folded, waiting for me.

four-poster bed

staring at him as if he was a second Moses and he had Ten Business Commandments straight from God.

Do I love him? I think I do. I do. I do. I do.

Then I’ll eat again. I’ll send out for a pizza. Though maybe I should stick to salads. I guess it would be easy to put on weight lying around in bed all day. I don’t want to end up looking like a beached whale. I’ll have a green salad.

Whenever she wanted silence she screamed. And then when it was silent she was the one who made the noise.

Yes indeed,’ said Miss Gibson. ‘I’m starting to be very glad my last girl flounced off!’ I

Mum down

squealing

HAD LEARNED

name

There were two loud-mouthed idiots, James and Phil, who chatted her up the first day. Jodie had flirted back automatically. Then they waylaid her after school, wanting her to go off into the woods with them.

butt

Queen

Mike.

Christmas

slapping,

remember

firmly.

nan.

dream

Just then the cottage door opened – and a tall, broad-shouldered man strode in, smelling of fresh air and honest toil. He looked around the room and then stood still, looking stunned. ‘Hetty – oh, my Hetty!’ he cried. ‘Jem!

cow

We’re never going to forget our sister Jodie.

Now, what are you going to wear for Halloween, Pearl?

Her feet wriggled against me like little puppies under the blanket.

CONTENTS Cover About the Book Title Page Colour First Reader Dedication Chapter

ALICE AND I are best friends. I’ve known her all my life. That is absolutely true. Our mums were in hospital at the same time when they were having us. I got born first, at six o’clock in the morning on 3 July. Alice took ages and didn’t arrive until four in the afternoon. We both had a long cuddle with our mums and at night time we were tucked up next to each other in little weeny cots.

tell them

dumping