“He knew the truth. Yes, my dear child, he would undoubtedly tell a terrified toddler tremulously seeking succor, monsters are real. I happen to have one hanging in my basement.”

“Yes, my dear child, monsters are real. I happen to have one hanging in my basement.”

“I wish to you sunshine, my dear one, my dear one. And treetops for you to soar past. I wish to you innocence, my child, my child. I pray you don't grow up too fast.Never know pain, my dear one, my dear one. Nor hunger nor fear nor sorrow. Never know war, my child, my child. Remember your hope for tomorrow.”

“Child,' said Aslan, 'did I not explain to you once before that no one is ever told what would have happened?''Yes, Aslan, you did,' said Lucy. 'I'm sorry. But please-''Speak on, dear heart.''Shall I ever be able to read that story again: the one I couldn't remember? Will you tell it to me, Aslan? Oh do, do, do.''Indeed, yes, I will tell it to you for years and years.”

“I have a rule.""Elaborate."The statue is still warm from the previous visitors. "I ask myself, if the worst happened—if I did get knocked up-would I be embarrassed to tell my child who his father was? If the answer is anywhere even remotely close to yes, then there's no way."He nods slowly. "That's a good rule.”

“Eddie discovered one of his childhood's great truths. Grownups are the real monsters, he thought.”