It's amazing how large the things are that it's possible to overlook.

You know, class is like magic. There's nothing there you can point to, it evaporates if you try to analyse it, but it's real and it affects how people behave and makes things happen.

I do not miss my toys. I wouldn't play with them anyway. I am fifteen. I miss my childhood.

Before I got glasses, I thought Monet was the world's only realist landscape painter.

If I were omnipotent and omnibenevolent I wouldn't be so damn ineffable.

I am reading The Lord of the Rings. I suddenly wanted to. I almost know it by heart, but I can still sink right into it. I know no other book that is so much like going on a journey. When I put it down to this, I feel as if I am also waiting with Pippin for the echoes of that stone down the well.

There may be stranger reasons for being alive. There are books There’s interlibrary loan. There are books you can fall into and pull up over your head.