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...she felt none of the sympathy Mo had shown for him. His scarred face only reminded her of lies he had told her to lure her out to him, like the Pied Piper in the story. He had played with her as he played with fire, with his brightly colored juggler's balls: come along, Meggie; this way, Meggie: trust me, Meggie. She felt like running up the steps and striking his lying mouth.
Inkheart pp. 158-159
When she stumbled against the back of Mo's legs for the second time, he put her on his back and carried her as he used to do before she could keep up with his long legs. He had called her "Little Flea" in those days, or "Feather Girl," or "Tinker Bell" after the fairy in Peter Pan. Sometimes he still called her Tinker Bell.
Inkheart, chapt. 20, p. 212
She used to search her books for a suitable mother, but there were hardly any mothers in her favorite stories. Tom Sawyer? No mother. Huck Fin? Ditto. Peter Pan and the Lost Boys? Not a mother in sight. Jim Button was motherless, too -- and all you found in fairy tales were wicked stepmothers; heartless, jealous stepmothers...the list could go on forever.
Inkheart, chapt. 29, p. 285
