“Coraline sighed. 'You really don't understand do you?' she said. 'I don't want whatever I want. Nobody does. Not really. What kind of fun would it be if I just got everything I ever wanted, just like that, and it didn't mean anything? What then?”
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“being brave didn’t mean you weren’t scared. Being brave meant you were scared, really scared, badly scared, and you did the right thing anyway.”
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“They were having an argument as old and comfortable as an armchair, the kind of argument that no one ever really wins or loses but which can go on forever, if both parties are willing.”
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“...'Mister Bobo says he thinks it might have been a weasel.'
'Mister Bobo?'
'The
man in the top flat. Mister Bobo. Fine old circus family I believe.
Romanian or Slovenian or Livonian, or one of those countries. Bless me, I
can never remember them any more.'
It had never occurred to
Coraline that the crazy old man upstairs actually had a name, she
realised. If she'd known his name was Mr. Bobo she would have said it
every chance she got. How often do you get to say a name like 'Mister
Bobo' aloud?”
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