Ransom Riggs
Ransom Riggs
Ransom Riggs is an American writer and filmmaker best known for the book Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionWriter
CountryUnited States of America
life stars light
Stars, too, were time travelers. How many of these ancient points of light were the last echoes of suns now dead? How many had been born but their light not yet come this far? If all the suns but ours collapsed tonight, how many lifetimes would it take us to realize that we were alone? I had always known the sky was full of mysteries - but not until now had I realized how full of them the earth was.
monday book years
But these weren't the kind of monsters that had tentacles and rotting skin, the kind a seven-year-old might be able to wrap his mind around-they were monsters with human faces, in crisp uniforms, marching in lockstep, so banal you don't recognize them for what they are until it's too late.
believe peculiar fairy-tale
We cling to our fairy tales until the price for believing in them becomes too high.
knocking
When someone won't let you in, eventually you stop knocking.
mean laughing care
Laughing doesn't make bad things worse any more than crying makes them better. It doesn't mean you don't care, or that you've forgotten. It just means you're human.
mother one-day peculiar
So one day my mother sat me down and explained that I couldn’t become an explorer because everything in the world had already been discovered. I’d been born in the wrong century, and I felt cheated.
girl flirting trying
I'm no expert on girls, but when one tries to pinch you four times, I'm pretty sure that's flirting
writing thinking trying
When you're writing, at least when I'm writing, I don't think about themes and I try not to sermonize with any particular message.
life debt small-life
Our debt was too great and the words thank you too small.
care easy dont-care
It's easy to say you don't care about money when you have plenty of it.
life book romance
There was romance in the unknown, but once a place had been discovered and cataloged and mapped, it was diminished, just another dusty fact in a book, sapped of mystery. So maybe it was better to leave a few spots on the map blank. To let the world keep a little of its magic, rather than forcing it to divulge every last secret. Maybe it was better, now and then, to wonder.
forever would-be half
I had just come to accept that my life would be ordinary when extraordinary things began to happen. The first of these came as a terrible shock and, like anything that changes you forever, split my life into halves: Before and After.
ideas abundance deficiency
I liked this idea: that peculiarness wasn't a deficiency, but an abundance; that it wasn't we who lacked something normals had, but they who lacked peculiarness. That we were more, not less.
climbing finding-yourself wish
Do you ever find yourself climbing into an open grave during a bombing raid and wish you'd just stayed in bed?