And I Plan To Write A Sequel

The Book She Had Been Reading Was Under Her Pillow, Pressing Its Cover Against Her Ear As If To Lure Her Back Into Its Printed Pages.

Who Are You?' Mo Looked At The White Women. Then He Looked At Dustfinger's Still Face. Guess.' The Bird Ruffled Up Its Golden Feathers, And Mo Saw That The Mark On Its Breast Was Blood. You Are Death.' Mo Felt The Word Heavy On His Tongue. Could Any Word Be Heavier?

I Pledge To Set Out To Live A Thousand Lives Between Printed Pages. I Pledge To Use Books As Doors To Other Minds, Old And Young, Girl And Boy, Man And Animal. I Pledge To Use Books To Open Windows To A Thousand Different Worlds And To The Thousand Different Faces Of My Own World. I Pledge To Use Books To Make My Universe Spread Much Wider Than The World I Live In Every Day. I Pledge To Treat My Books Like Friends, Visiting Them All From Time To Time And Keeping Them Close.

And My Father Always Took Me To The Library. We Were Both Book Addicts.

Blue As The Evening Sky, Blue As Cranesbill Flowers, Blue As The Lips Of Drowned Men And The Heart Of A Blaze Burning With Too Hot A Flame. Yes, Sometimes It Was Hot In This World, Too. Hot And Cold, Light And Dark, Terrible And Beautiful, It Was Everything All At Once. It Wasn't True That You Felt Nothing In The Land Of Death. You Felt And Heard And Smelled And Saw, But Your Heart Remained Strangely Calm, As If It Were Resting Before The Dance Began Again. Peace. Was That The Word?