Not an insult sweetie. That was a thirteen word kiss.
A fine line separates the weary recluse from the fearful hermit. Finer still is the line between hermit and bitter misanthrope.
Books are packaged dreams.
Loyal companions are an unequaled grace, stanching fear before it bleeds you numb, a reliable antidote for creeping despair.
Your sense of responsibility to others can never be excessive.
Shakespeare again. Once you let him into your head, he takes up tenancy and will not leave.