크리스마스가 다가오고 있었다. 벌써 멋진 노르웨이 가문비나무가 광장에 섰고 그 옆에는 말 구유와 색을 새로 칠한 예수 탄생 조각상이 있었다. 요셉의 빨간색과 보라색옷이 너무 요란하지 않냐며 못마땅해하는 사람도 있었지만 언제나처럼 파란색과 흰색 옷을 입고 다소곳이 무릎을 꿇은 성모상에는 다들 만족스러워했다. 양 두 마리와 구유 옆을 지키는 갈색 당나귀도 예년과 다르지 않았다. 구유에는 크리스마스이브에 아기 예수가 놓일 예정이었다. - P25


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Then came the pain. It was unbelievable, unbearable, excruciating. It was as though someone had laid a white-hot poker across your backside and pressed hard. - P203

The second stroke would be coming soon and it was as much as you could do to stop putting your hands in the way to ward it off. It was the instinctive reaction. But if you did that, it would break your fingers. - P203

That cruel cane ruled our lives. - P204

So we watched our words. And we watched our steps. My goodness, how we watched our steps. We became incredibly alert. - P204


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You should be able to write well.
By that I mean you should be able to make a scene come alive in the reader’s mind.
Not everybody has this ability. It is a gift, and you either have it or you don’t. - P201

You must have stamina.
In other words, you must be able to stick to what you are doing and never give up, for hour after hour, day after day, week after week and month after month. - P201

You must be a perfectionist.
That means you must never be satisfied with what you have written until you have rewritten it again and again, making it as good as you possibly can. - P201

You must have strong self-discipline.
You are working alone. No one is employing you. No one is around to give you the sack if you don’t turn up for work, or to tick you off if you start slacking. - P201

It helps a lot if you have a keen sense of humour.
This is not essential when writing for grown-ups, but for children, it’s vital. - P201

You must have a degree of humility.
The writer who thinks that his work is marvellous is heading for trouble. - P201

Let me tell you how I myself slid in through the back door and found myself in the world of fiction. - P201


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The train came over him like an explosion. It was as though a gun had gone off in his head. And with the explosion came a tearing, screaming wind that was like a hurricane blowing down his nostrils and into his lungs. The noise was shattering. The wind choked him. He felt as if he were being eaten alive and swallowed up in the belly of a screaming murderous monster. - P101

They were hooligans, these two, and from what Peter read in his father’s newspaper nearly every day, they were not by any means on their own. It seemed the whole country was full of hooligans. - P102

It was a swan, a magnificent white swan sitting serenely upon her nest. The nest itself was a huge pile of reeds and rushes that rose up about two feet above the waterline, and upon the top of all this the swan was sitting like a great white lady of the lake. Her head was turned towards the boys on the bank, alert and watchful. - P106

Some people, when they have taken too much and have been driven beyond the point of endurance, simply crumble and give up. There are others, though they are not many, who will for some reason always be unconquerable. You meet them in time of war and also in time of peace. They have an indomitable spirit and nothing, neither pain nor torture nor threat of death, will cause them to give up. - P115

Little Peter Watson was one of these. And as he fought and scrabbled to prevent himself from falling out of the top of that tree, it came to him suddenly that he was going to win. He looked up and he saw a light shining over the waters of the lake that was of such brilliance and beauty he was unable to look away from it. The light was beckoning him, drawing him on, and he dived towards the light and spread his wings. - P115

How I became a writer A fiction writer is a person who invents stories. But how does one start out on a job like this? How does one become a full-time professional fiction writer? Charles Dickens found it easy. At the age of twenty-four, he simply sat down and wrote Pickwick Papers, which became an immediate best-seller. But Dickens was a genius, and geniuses are different from the rest of us. - P199

The first attempts at writing have therefore always had to be done in spare time, usually at night. - P199


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Ernie had been given a .22 rifle for his birthday. His father, who was already slouching on the sofa watching the telly at nine-thirty on this Saturday morning, said, ‘Let’s see what you can pot, boy. Make yourself useful. Bring us back a rabbit for supper.’ - P89

And on the way back,’ the father said, ‘get me a quart bottle of brown ale.’ ‘Gimme the money, then,’ Ernie said. The father, without taking his eyes from the TV screen, fished in his pocket for a pound note. ‘And don’t try pinchin’ the change like you did last time,’ he said. ‘You’ll get a thick ear if you do, birthday or no birthday.’
(89p. The Swan, THE WONDERFUL STORY OF HENRY SUGAR AND SIX MORE, Penguin Random House UK, 2011) - P89

‘Shut your mouth,’ the father said. ‘Nobody’s askin’ your opinion. And listen to me, boy,’ he said to Ernie. ‘Don’t go waving that thing about in the street because you ain’t got no licence. Stick it down your trouser-leg till you’re out in the country, right?’ - P90

He was a big lout of a boy, fifteen years old this birthday. Like his truck-driver father, he had small slitty eyes set very close together near the top of the nose. His mouth was loose, the lips often wet. - P90

Ernie’s best friend was called Raymond. He lived four doors away, and he, too, was a big boy for his age. But while Ernie was heavy and loutish, Raymond was tall, slim and muscular. - P91

Ernie got a bullfinch and a hedge-sparrow. Raymond got a second bullfinch, a whitethroat and a yellowhammer. - P91

Peter Watson was always the enemy. Ernie and Raymond detested him because he was nearly everything that they were not. - P92


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