Howl's Moving Castle (Howl's Castle Book 1)

by Diana Wynne Jones

She read a great deal, and very soon realized how little chance she had of an interesting future. It was a disappointment to her, but

It was odd. As a girl, Sophie would have shriveled with embarrassment at the way she was behaving. As an old woman, she did not mind what she did or said. She found that a great relief. She went nosily over as Michael lifted up a stone in the hearth and hid the

Sophie’s experience told her that tantrums are seldom about the thing they appear to be about.

It seems as if those of high ability cannot resist some extra, dangerous stroke of cleverness, which results in a fatal flaw and begins a slow decline to

“I feel ill,” he announced. “I’m going to bed, where I may die.” He tottered piteously to the stairs. “Bury me beside Mrs. Pentstemmon,” he croaked as he went up them to bed.

“I’m dying of boredom,” Howl said pathetically. “Or maybe just dying.”

“Who, me?” said Howl. “I assure you, my friends, I am cone sold stober.”

said, “it’s natural.” “I’ve never seen why people put such value on things being natural,” Howl said, and Sophie knew then that he was scarcely changed at all.