As we age, we become our parents; live long enough and we see faces repeat in time.
I think hell is something you carry around with you, not somewhere you go.
Bod was thrilled. He imagined a future in which he could read everything, in which all stories could be opened and discovered.
Fiction is the lie that tells the truth, after all.
I think most things are pretty magical, and that it's less a matter of belief than it is one of just stopping to notice.
Sleep my little baby-oh Sleep until you waken When you wake you'll see the world If I'm not mistaken... Kiss a lover Dance a measure, Find your name And buried treasure... Face your life Its pain, Its pleasure, Leave no path untaken.