They defy gravity, as good books should.

This, I think, is how people survive: Even when horrible things have been done to us, we can still find gratitude in one another.

It felt good to be surrounded by books, by all this solid knowledge, by these objects that could be ripped page by page but couldn't be torn if the pages all held together.

But you have to figure that if it’s too hard to hang on, then maybe you should let go.

You could be the leaf that never falls from the tree you could be the sun that never leaves the sky this might be the happy ending without the ending this might be a reason to try

You spend so much time, so much effort, trying to hold yourself together. And then everything falls apart anyway.

Deep down, you see, I long to be arcane, esoteric. I would love to confound people with their own language.