Bruce Coville Quotes

As it turned out, he was wrong about that. The last guest didn't show up until we were eating our dessert.
That was when the ghost sat down in the empty chair-directly across from me.

"We stood at the top of the stairs and looked down. Neither of us moved. I had a feeling we were each waiting for the other to go first.
"Dark down there," said Chris after a while.
"Sure is," I said. I was squinting down the steps, trying to make something out.
"Person might get hurt, stumbling around."
"Sure could," I said.
"They ought to keep it better lit."
"Sure should," I said, getting ready to turn around and leave.
"Well, let's get on with it," said Chris. She started walking down the stairs.
I couldn't believe it! I thought she had been trying to talk herself out of going down there. The truth was, she had just been building up her courage.
Now I had to build up mine!"

my arms, around my legs, and suddenly the force field disappeared. I could move again! The only problem was, the instant I did, my clothes all fell off. The laser had sliced my shirt, my pants, my shoes and socks, even my underwear, into pieces — and had done it all without touching my skin. “Get me out of here!” I yelled. “Get me some clothes!” No answer. Did that mean there wasn’t anyone there? Just as well, I decided, since I didn’t have any clothes on. But how long were the aliens going to leave me here? Or was someone watching me even now — watching, but not speaking? That made sense, in a way. If the alien mission was to study earthlings, then probably they were doing that right now — especially since I was the only one they had. I decided if I was going to be the sample earthling, I was going to do my best not to act like an idiot. So I began to take deep breaths. I felt myself getting a little calmer. I mean, it wasn’t like no one had ever seen me naked before. I’ve been to the doctor. And next year I would be taking showers in gym class. Come to think of it, given my choice of getting stuck naked in front of a bunch of aliens, or in a seventh-grade gym class, I’d choose the aliens any day. At least they won’t flick your butt with a wet towel! Unfortunately, just as I was getting calm, my little chamber started to fill with gas. Was this a test, to see if I would panic? Were they going to knock me out and do some medical exams? Or were they going to kill me and dissect me? I held my breath until my lungs were

But, really, why does anyone create? You feel a...restlessness inside, a need to make something new, something no one has ever seen before. You want to add to the beauty and the richness of the world with a gift, an offering that is uniquely yours. It's an act of selfishness and generosity, all rolled into one.

What we do not wish to remember we sometimes hide. That which we hide long enough is sometimes forgotten altogether, even if it never forgets itself.

"Then you're saying this theater isn't haunted?"
"I'm saying so what if it is?" said Edgar. "People have been saying the place is haunted for nearly fifty years now, and in all that time the ghost hasn't done one bit of harm. Why should she start now?"
"Maybe she doesn't like the script," Ken Abbott said.
"Thanks a lot, Ken," said Alan Bland.

(L)ittle is debated with greater ferocity than the question of what the creator owes the creation. Some feel you must hover over it, guarding it every moment. Others believe the highest, hardest, and most important task is to let go. They say that just as the parent must at some point release the child to the world, the creator must release the creation. Otherwise you stop it in its tracks, strangle its growth. Then you become not only its creator, but its executioner.

"Our leading lady saw the theater's ghost last night."
My dad was really cool. Other than raising an eyebrow, he didn't miss a beat.
"How did she take it?" he asked, his voice as calm as if we were discussing a change in Lydia's costume.
"Not too well," said Chris. "She sort of flipped out." She shot me a sideward glance and said, "To tell you the truth, Mr. Tanleven, I don't think she's very mature. When Nine and I saw the ghost, we handled it a lot more calmly than Lydia did."
I would like to be able to tell you that I stayed calm when Chris dropped that particular bombshell. The truth is I nearly spit a mouthful of mashed potatoes across the table. As for my father, he just raised his eyebrow a little higher.
"Is that so? I don't think Nine bothered to mention it to me."
No one said anything for a moment. The only sounds around the table were the ones that came from me trying to swallow the potatoes while I worked out a way to kill Chris without getting caught.

Each of us is a miracle. Alas, it is a fact we too often forget.

"What are you going to do next?"
"Go to bed!" I said, trying to keep down a yawn. "I'm exhausted."
"That's two good moves," he said. "Then what?"
"I'm going to get up."
"And then?" he persisted.
"And then I'm going to find out what's going on in that theater!" I said emphatically.
He nodded. "That's what I figured."
"You don't mind?" I asked cautiously.
"Of course I mind!" he said. "You're probably going to get in as much trouble as people usually do when they stick their noses in other people's business, though I supposed I should be used to that by now."

(T)he downfall of the wise and the mighty comes not from being strong or wise, but from thinking you are stronger and wiser than you truly are, than any being can truly be.

What terrifies us is what might happen if you learn to use your full intelligence before you become truly civilized. Stars above! If you people find your way into space before you fix whatever's wrong with your spirits, the damage you'd wreak could make what you've done to your own planet look like a forest rangers' picnic.

Stop running. That wouldn't be good enough. I had to stop being afraid.

I knew Pop would get me out of the coffin. But I had feeling when he did I might wish I was back inside it again.

"In the reference room I got the second, but not the last, major shock of my day. I mean, who would have thought it? Librarians are supposed to be little old ladies. OK, I'll admit a lot of them aren't little and a lot more aren't old. But how many of them are guys who look good enough to be models?
The Hunk stood up as we crossed to his desk. "Can I help you young ladies?" he asked.
"Yes," said Chris briskly. "We'd like to look — "
"At your eyes," I finished, without realizing I was speaking out loud.
Chris jabbed me in the ribs with her elbow."