Jacqueline Wilson Quotes

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.

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.

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.

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

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 . . .

Everything’s better with cake,

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

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

penises,

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

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

HETTY FEATHER

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

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

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.

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...

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.

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.

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.

CAFÉ

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 felt tears pricking inside my eyelids. Maybe I came first with Oliver

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.

And you have no manners!' I retorted. To my surprise she chuckled. 'That's the spirit,' she said. 'You must learn to stand up for yourself. I am amazed you let those tedious girls in your class make fun of you. 'They call me names,' I said. 'Then call them names too, worse ones. And play tricks on them. That is the fairy way.' said Bindweed.

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. My heart melted in this freezing fantasy land and in two minutes I loved Dad so much I was willing to forgive him anything.

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

She hung right out of the window and tugged at her shawl to show her purple hair. She tugged too violently, she jerked forward, she wobbled in her crazy red shoes – and then she fell.

Sian

And

poor children in Africa. We were told to bring in cakes and biscuits to sell to each other at lunch time. ‘Right!’ said Mum, rolling up her sleeves. She started making an enormous batch of bunny cookies, all different flavours, every one lovingly iced with raisins for eyes and a dab of glacé cherry for a mouth. Nearly everyone brought cakes and biscuits – but mine were the most popular! I sold them for ten pence per cookie, and they sold out in five minutes flat! We had a summer fair for school funds at the end of June and Mr Pettit

It was my fault. We were all sitting squashed up on the sofa on Friday night watching Coronation Street, the second episode of the evening. Well, none of us were actually watching. Pixie was squatting on the arm of the sofa rubbing tomato sauce round her mouth, telling us over and over again that she was wearing lipstick like Mummy. My littlest sister, Pixie, could win the world record for repetition. She’s three and talks all the time, though most of what she says is nonsense.

He squared up to me, hands on his hips. ‘Who’s telling me to get into bed? You can’t boss me around. You’re not my mum,’ he shouted. He was only clowning around.

He’s

Dad said I’d go to hell.

I start to eat it. I bite. I chew. I swallow. Eggs is chattering but Anna and Dad are silent. Watching. Practically holding their breath. ‘It’s OK,’ I say. ‘I’m not going to hide bits in my lap. I’m not going to spit it into my hankie. I’m not going to make myself sick.’ ‘Thank God!’ says Dad. ‘Oh Ellie. I can’t believe it. You’re actually eating!’ ‘I’m eating too!’ says Eggs. ‘I always eat and yet no-one makes a fuss of me. We don’t have to have special salads for Ellie every day, do we?

I started to think she was such an idiot that I didn’t really want to be friends with her after all.

Miss French looked very much a lady for classical music, with her sensible grey bob and her navy waistcoat and pleated skirt and silk scarf

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

He probably wouldn’t even remember what I looked like. But then my idea of him was very hazy. He was just a fumbled embrace, a stammer of words in a foreign accent. Would the baby inside me share his looks, his habits, his awkward personality? I hoped for a girl now, not a small strange boy who looked like his father.

Dad reads great fat books too, but they're not modern, they're all classics - Charles Dickens and Thomas Hardy. If we have a look at Dad's book we wonder what the Dickens they're on about and they seem very Hardy, but Dad likes them.

IS MATTY STILL MY BEST FRIEND

Poor licklewickle cry-baby buggy-wuggy,’ she muttered.

Vicky's only been dead an hour and yet she's already a memory.

I do care about the awfulness of war and starving babies and tortured animals and destroying the countryside. It’s just that if I’m totally one hundred and one percent honest I care about being fat just a weeny bit more.

sorceress

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 Indigenous Poetry Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings, by Joy Harjo Ghost River (Wakpá Wanági), by Trevino L. Brings Plenty The Book of Medicines, by Linda Hogan The Smoke That Settled, by Jay Thomas Bad Heart Bull The Crooked Beak of Love, by Duane Niatum Whereas, by Layli Long Soldier Little Big Bully, by Heid E. Erdrich A Half-Life of Cardio-Pulmonary Resuscitation, by Eric Gansworth NDN Coping Mechanisms, by Billy-Ray Belcourt The Invisible Musician, by Ray A. Young Bear When the Light of the World Was Subdued, Our Songs Came Through, edited by Joy Harjo New Poets of Native Nations, edited by Heid E. Erdrich The Failure of Certain Charms, by Gordon Henry Jr. Indigenous History and Nonfiction Everything You Know About Indians Is Wrong, by Paul Chaat Smith Decolonizing Methodologies, by Linda Tuhiwai Smith Through Dakota Eyes: Narrative Accounts of the Minnesota Indian War of 1862, edited by Gary Clayton Anderson and Alan R. Woodworth Being Dakota, by Amos E. Oneroad and Alanson B. Skinner Boarding School Blues, edited by Clifford E. Trafzer, Jean A. Keller, and Lorene Sisquoc Masters of Empire, by Michael A. McDonnell Like a Hurricane: The Indian Movement from Alcatraz to Wounded Knee, by Paul Chaat Smith and Robert Allen Warrior Boarding School Seasons, by Brenda J. Child They Called It Prairie Light, by K. Tsianina Lomawaima To Be a Water Protector, by Winona LaDuke Minneapolis: An Urban Biography, by Tom Weber

What if this really is goodbye? What if this is the last time you ever see your mum?

anaesthetic

Of course. I’ll never lie still like my father under his hideous obelisk. I’ll roam free, flying above you like these angels, and I’ll be with you day and night,’ Morgan whispered.

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

If there's anything I want to achieve, it's to have children read about others slightly different to them.

Fatboy Sam.

She was trying to whisper, but she might as well have yelled under an echoing bridge.

You’ve got more courage in your little finger than most folks have in their entire bodies, my own child. I

It’s the wedding day!’ I whispered. He murmured my name in a pleased sort of way but he didn’t wake up properly. I tried a few wriggles and nudges to see if that would help but he started gently snoring. I felt too fidgety and nervous and excited to stay cuddled up for long. I

I lay back with a sigh, up to my chin in bubbles, the blood throbbing in my head. It felt so good to stretch out. My arms and back were aching after lumping Pixie around all that time.

I had to cope with her right from when I was little, I looked after her and you.

I stared at him. Maybe it had been hard for him being second best too.

I felt tears pricking inside my eyelids. Maybe I came first With Oliver.

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.

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

Where is everything?’ Kendall and I chorused.

gobbledegook.

EMERGENCY

SO NOW WE were the Luck family – Victoria, Kendall and Lola Rose – and we had a whole new life going for us.

said

scrambling

You dance funny,’ she said. I didn’t think this was a compliment.

Why do you always have to argue with me? I’m your mother and I know best. Now come along.’ So

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.

See my finger wet, see my finger dry, cut my throat if I tell a lie.

Mum,

pity’s sake,

No they don’t. Not if you go to antique fairs and do someone a favour and find a little emerald for a special small girl,’ said Dad.

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

TracyBeaker

tell them

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!

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

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.

Pixie herself was too little to tell a proper story. She just said a whole jumble of stuff: ‘Pixie did dancing, then Pixie did singing, then Pixie ate lots and lots of ice cream,’ droning on and on about herself. ‘Pixie did telling stories and she was boring,’ said Baxter unkindly.

Rooftoppers

Dad wore a very smart suit, with a long black jacket and grey pinstripe trousers. He had a waistcoat too, black silk with gold embroidery. Dad never wore fancy clothes. It was hard work imagining him in anything but jeans or his suit for work, but it was his wedding after all and I wanted him to look wonderful. I

I decided to sort that out straight away the minute I got home.

Hobgoblins

tartan