How fast the ears learned to tell what sounds meant, much faster than it took the eyes to decipher written words.

If I was a book, I would like to be a library book, so I would be taken home by all different sorts of kids.

There could be few men whose love for a woman had been written on his face with a knife.

You know what they say: When people start burning books they'll soon burn human beings.

She pressed her hand against her chest. No heart. So where did the love she felt come from?

Reality is a fragile thing.

A library book, I imagine, is a happy book.