The heart does not go backward. Only the mind.

It was good to walk into a library again; it smelled like home.

I was filled with angst in college, that I struggled with the question of my future, the meaning of my life - spoiled sheltered rich girl collides with great books and is devastated by her own banality.

My guess is that he remembers some of me, some of us together, and the rest rolled off him like topsoil in a flash flood.

Then you must say to her, 'Madame, I observe that your heart is broken. Allow me to repair it for you.

...what will we someday do, I always wonder, without the pleasures of turning through books and stumbling on things we never meant to find?

It was not the brutality of what occurred next that changed my mind and brought home to me the full meaning of fear. It was the brilliance of it.