a book always keeps something of its owner between its pages.

Since when does the butterfly ask about the caterpillar?

The sea always filled her with longing, though for what she was never sure.

It was much easier for him now that he was smaller to negotiate his way through his crammed shop but he still tried to swagger past the shelves like he used to in the past. The attempt looked so strange that Scipio started to mimic him behind his back. "What's the silly giggling about?" Barbarossa asked when Prosper and Renzo bust out laughing.

Isn't it odd how much fatter a book gets when you've read it several times?

We all know what fun it can be to get right into a book and live there for a while, but falling out of a story and suddenly finding yourself in this world doesn't seem to be much fun at all.

It's a cruel world, don't you think?