Neither Goyl nor men lived long enough to understand that yesterday was born of tomorrow, just as tomorrow was born of yesterday.

-You forgot something important! -What? -It's under my sweater! -WHAT?! -Me!

Sometimes it's a good thing we don't remember things half as well as books do.

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.

Why did death make life taste so much sweeter? Why could the heart love only what it could also lose?

This book taught me, once and for all, how easily you can escape this world with the help of words! You can find friends between the pages of a book, wonderful friends.

I live in Hamburg; that's in the north. And I live on the outskirts of town. It looks like countryside.