And my father always took me to the library. We were both book addicts.

Please," she whispered as she opened the book, "please get me out of here just for an hour or so, please take me far, far away

I'm perfectly happy to know the world at secondhand. It's a lot safer.

From the tower battlements, Dustfinger looked down on a lake as black as night, where the reflection of the castle swam in a sea of stars. The wind passing over his unscarred face was cold from the snow of the surrounding mountains, and Dustfinger relished life as if he were tasting it for the first time. The longing it brought, and the desire. All the bitterness, all the sweetness, even if it was only for a while, never for more than a while, everything gained and lost, lost and found again.

Down there the nights are bright and nobody believes in the Devil.

Because fear kills everything," Mo had once told her. "Your mind, your heart, your imagination.

Read – and be curious. And if somebody says to you: 'Things are this way. You can't change it' - don't believe a word.