She wanted to return to her dream. Perhaps it was still somewhere there behind her closed eyelids. Perhaps a little of its happiness still clung like gold dust to her lashes. Don't dreams in fairy tales sometimes leave a token behind?

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

Nobody loves only once.

She had only to open a door, nothing but a door between the words,just large enough for her and Farid to pass through.

She read and read and read, but she was stuffing herself with the letters on the page like an unhappy child stuffing itself with chocolate. They didn’t taste bad, but she was still unhappy.

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?

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.