A Book Always Keeps Something Of Its

The Books In Mo And Meggie's House Were Stacked Under Tables, On Chairs, In The Corners Of The Rooms. There Where Books In The Kitchen And Books In The Lavatory. Books On The Tv Set And In The Closet, Small Piles Of Books, Tall Piles Of Books, Books Thick And Thin, Books Old And New. They Welcomed Meggie Down To Breakfast With Invitingly Opened Pages; They Kept Boredom At Bay When The Weather Was Bad. And Sometimes You Fall Over Them.

And I Always Read The English Translation And Always Have Conversations With My Translator, For Example About The Names. I Always Have To Approve It.

Go Back And Rid The Word Of That Book. Fill It With Words Before Spring Comes, Or Winter Will Never End For You. And I Will Take Not Only Your Life For The Adderhead's But Your Daughter's, Too, Because She Helped You Bind The Book. Do You Undersand, Bluejay" Why Two?" Asked Mo Hoarsely. "how Can You Ask For Two Lives In Return For One?

From The Tower Battlements, Dustfinger Looked Down On A Lake As Black As Night, Where The Reflection Of The Castle Swam In A Sea Of Stars. The Wind Passing Over His Unscarred Face Was Cold From The Snow Of The Surrounding Mountains, And Dustfinger Relished Life As If He Were Tasting It For The First Time. The Longing It Brought, And The Desire. All The Bitterness, All The Sweetness, Even If It Was Only For A While, Never For More Than A While, Everything Gained And Lost, Lost And Found Again.

I Always Thought It Hadn't Influenced Me Very Much, But I Heard From Many People From England That Many Motives From German Fairytales Are To Be Found In My Books.