Research the imagination. It was as obsolete as the appendix in most adults, except for those in whom, like the appendix, it became inflamed for no reason.

The odd thing about people who had many books was how they always wanted more.

It’s an odd thing, happiness. Some people take happiness from gold. Or black pearls. And some of us, far more fortunate, take their happiness from periwinkles.

That's the beginning of magic. Let your imagination run and follow it.

Men see what they are most afraid of.

I do not want to choose which one of you I must love or hate. Here, I am free to do neither. I want no part of your bitterness.

Those who fear the imagination condemn it: something childish, they say, something monsterish, misbegotten. Not all of us dream awake. But those of us who do have no choice.