Best 40 quotes of Suzy Davies on MyQuotes

A happy childhood can fortify one against the ravages of life, and part of that happiness is found in books, which become our constant companions for the rest of our lives.

As he spoke these words, a giant wave, just like the one in Katsushika Hokusai’s, “The Great Wave off Kanagawa,” rippled in below the lofty ledge. Chaiya saw a thousand images in a second. “Brothers!” he shouted. “Brothers! Brothers! Brothers!…” His voice echoed and vibrated through their hearts. They were all wide awake. “The presence in the cave will swallow us up,” Chaiya thought.

Books are a portable kind of time travel. We go back as well as forward when we read them. When we come back into the now, after being immersed in worlds previously unknown to us, we find ourselves, transformed. Touched by their magic, nothing we ever perceived beforehand remains quite the same.

Creativity is a flame that lights up and ignites the senses

Dreams, kindled in the fire of imagination, ignite in the brilliance of our minds, and are wrought in the work of our hands" -

Frog Princess loved the lilly flowers where Green Frog lay dreaming away the hours

Good writers always have a strong sense of who they are and who they are not. Like actors, their boundaries are strong, and fluid. They have a deep understanding of the human condition, and an empathy that is not so diffuse that it is diluted.

Good writing has vitality!

He was just about to turn the light off, when there was a heavy, “Tappety, tap, tappety, tap,” on the door. It was the kind of loud sound that could only be made with a hoof. A moose’s hoof, that is." - Snugs The Snow Bear

His lone withdrawing figure blended anonymously with the darkness, Dr Raven's quick, light steps becoming gradually distant, drowned out by the clicking staccato rush of trains, the steady drip of rainwater, and the clock of a nearby church as it heralded the hour

How insightful of Finland to devise a topic-based curriculum in their schools! This means that dicreet "subjects" that are taught may cross-fertilise each other, and the possibilities in this are amazing!

I don't like books which give me the answers. I love books that give me the questions

It is winter, and very cold. There are icicles against the glass, and frost. I am tracing a pattern, before it melts. Before it fades, and is lost for good, like memories

I want to sling a stone, a small rock into a pool, see it ripple. I want to shake a tree, create a small storm..

I was an unwilling passenger leaving the Big Country. I would miss the mountains and the waterfalls,the treks on broad horses' backs to hidden villages in secret valleys.

I was climbing high, high up Pen Dinas Head among the sparkling yellow gorse, sea birds and white heather, with the oily sheep huddled together against the wind

Mommy says, "Bedtime for You!" So Owl says a friendly "Hoo!

Nestled in the cabbage leaves, bunny's snuggly and sound asleep

On his departure, he glanced swiftly back as he passed the furtive gaze of the gloved footmen.He was swept away in the momentum of shimmering glass....I had seen how the world turned, and I was beginning to feel my own power

Our eyes met. I kissed her soft face, and down the stairs they descended. Their voices blended into an echo, a murmur. I ventured barefoot into the bedroom. The dark gown lay crumpled upon the bed

Poems are the music of our childhoods

Reading an author's Biography contributes to an understanding and enjoyment of their work, and gives a richness to the reading experience.

She hands me an ornament of The Virgin Mary. "Pray to the Holy Mary, Mother of God!" I notice she has a gold chain round her neck. It has the holy cross and a shamrock

Sir, I’ve known him ever since he was born! We’ve played snowball, and built snow-houses together, which are called igloos, and once, when one of Santa’s reindeer was sick on Christmas Eve, Snow Bear stepped in to help with the presents, and load them on the sleigh - he’s very kind, and clever, and strong, you know.

The Art of Writing for Children is the knowledge of what is significant to them

The landscape is bathed in the honeyed light of morning. Sometimes the memory of winter comes again. And my days are colored reveries of you, my nights sensuous

The piper never knew we were watchers.....Sounds echoed - sounds of a Scottish love song. They echoed through the silence, soft and melancholy, as he kept time with his foot, and the metal of the bagpipes glinted, through faint moonshine, and lifting fog

There are bald patches, like Daddy's head, on the pebble-dash, higher up than last year. I have picked off the stones. (I was a graffiti artist. No words, no pictures. The trace of identity marked in spaces.

There were women who navigated in canoes, holding their children, the beguiling wind blowing soft sleet kisses, raining upon their skins

The sea is rushing in now as unconsciousness does.I can see a chord, hear gospel songs as we hoist the sails.The sails are a soft white bird. We are airborne. We are primitive.

The song was a sea-shanty, and Snugs loved that kind of song. The music had an accordion, and the tune reminded him of the ship, and the songs Captain LightOwler played, when he was off duty, about pirates and the baddies on the sea.

The sun came out, warm on my back through my white school blouse.the streets were familiar, past the old tannery, the Jet garage. Past the Asian corner shop with rainbow jars of Kayli, gobstoppers and sherbert love hearts. I was in love with Frankie.

They must be looking everywhere for you," said Tawny, stretching out her wings to their full span - which was very far indeed! It seemed to Luna that maybe Tawny was looking for her across the whole wide world! - Luna The Moon Pig, The Pig Who Hid

They must be looking everywhere for you," said Tawny, stretching out her wings to their full span - which was very far indeed! It seemed to Luna that Tawny was saying that Maria was looking for her across the whole wide world. "Luna The Moon Pig, The Pig Who Hid

Well, I'll tell yer now, it's going t' be even better for talkin' t' me! Get your arse down tut station. I'd gor meself, but I'm sending you as a proxy. Sort it out at Oxford Street for me, will yer, eh?They're not doin' the bloody figures, an' I for one want to know what the eck's goin' on! You'll be writin' me a full report. And if they're pissing about, sack 'em, right? Get your arse on the next bloody train, eh! I want you there as soon as possible. Get yourself checked in tut hotel when you get there. You can phone that man, Bart is it, whatsisname, and let 'im knor, eh?.....What d'yer say? You'll do it for me? Grand! Get your arse down that station, now! The phone clicked off

When first I set eyes on The Isle of Wight Polar Bear, my world was filled, in that instant, with the magic and wonder of childhood - Suzy Davies, Author, "Snugs The Snow Bear

Whose ideas breathe through me? Am I a thief? Do I dream my own dreams?

With Writing, You Lose Yourself, Find Yourself, and Become Someone Else. Writing Changes The Writer and The Reader. It Goes to The Core of Your Being, Challenges Your Pre-Suppositions. It Leaves You Satisfied, and Unsatisfied.

Writing is...creating tattoos which are invisible, under your skin

You need one book for all the lives you could have dreamed of, and lived, but never had