Her home is the burrow of a bibliophile hobbit -- low-ceilinged, close-walled, and brimming over with books.

Imagination runs out. But it makes sense, right? We probably just imagine things based on what we already know, and we run out of analogies in the thirty-first century.

You know, I'm really starting to think the whole world is just a patchwork quilt of crazy little cults, all with their own secret spaces, their own records, their own rules.

So I guess you could say Neel owes me a few favors, except that so many favors have passed between us now that they are no longer distinguishable as individual acts, just a bright haze of loyalty. OUr friendship is a nebula. (34)

I feel a little whirl of dislocation -- the trademark sensation of the world being more closely knit together than you expected

Our books still do not require batteries. But I am no fool. It is a slender advantage.

I loved The Chronicles of Narnia. I loved The Chronicles of Prydain. Basically, 'Chronicles of' - I was in!