Rejection is a cancer, Edie. It eats away at a person.

I'd pretty much given up hope of being published, so I just wrote the book I wanted to read.

Oh, there was harm indeed for a young lady flattered by the brief attentions of a handsome man.

Gerry?' Laurel had to strain to hear thought the noise on the other end of the line. 'Gerry? Where are you?' 'London. A phone booth on Fleet Street.' 'The city still has working phone booths?' 'It would appear so. Unless this is the Tardis, in which case I'm in serious trouble.

Nighttime is different. Things are otherwise when the world is black. Insecurities and hurts, anxieties and fears grow teeth at night. p493

Thinking of nothing. Trying to think of nothing. Thinking of everything.

She either confused me with a much older child or else she glimpsed deep inside my soul and perceived a hole that needed filling. I've always chosen to believe the latter. After all, it's the librarian's one sworn purpose to bring books together with their one true reader.