The sea always filled her with longing, though for what she was never sure.
My daughter, Anna, is almost 15, and my son, Ben, is almost 10.
perhaps because this time not fear but love made him read.
Books are like flypaper, memories cling to the printed pages better than anything else.
I'm perfectly happy to know the world at secondhand. It's a lot safer.
Is there anything in the world better than words on the page? Magic signs, the voices of the dead, building blocks to make wonderful worlds better than this one, comforters, companions in loneliness. Keepers of secrets, speakers of the truth...all those glorious words.