Everyone is small at night.

The book she had been reading was under her pillow, pressing its cover against her ear as if to lure her back into its printed pages.

It's the same in real life: Notorious murderers get off scot-free and live happily all their lives, while good people die - sometimes the very best people. That's the way of the world.

Words,words filled the night like the fragrance of invisible flowers.

Sometimes, when you’re sad you don’t know what to do, it helps to be angry. But then the tears come back again all the same, and you fall asleep with the salty taste of them on your lips.

Which of us has not felt that the character we are reading in the printed page is more real than the person standing beside us?

He longed for the deep as she longed for the night sky and for white lilies floating on water -- although she still tried to convince herself that love alone could feed her soul.