The Westing Game

by Ellen Raskin

She said that if she knew what was going to happen in a book, she would be too bored to write it.

She said that she wrote for the child in herself, but for once I think she was wrong. I think she wrote for the adult in children. She never disrespected them or “wrote down,” because she didn’t know how.

“He died laughing,” Turtle repeated thoughtfully. “That’s profound, Sandy. That’s very profound.”