“How big are souls anyway?” asked Coraline. The other mother sat down at the kitchen table and leaned back against the wall, saying nothing. She picked at her teeth with a long crimson-varnished fingernail, then she tapped the finger, gently, tap-tap-tap against the polished black surface of her black button eyes. “Fine,” said Coraline. “Don’t tell me. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter if you help me or not. Everyone knows that a soul is the same size as a beach ball.” She was hoping the other mother would say something like “Nonsense, they’re the size of ripe onions—or suitcases—or grandfather
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Selick translated this scene exactly to the film. Amazing.
