And I Plan To Write A Sequel

Believe Me. Sometimes When Life Looks To Be At Its Grimmest, There's A Light Hidden At The Heart Of Things. Clive Barker, Abarat

She Always Did Like Tales Of Adventure-stories Full Of Brightness And Darkness. She Could Tell You The Names Of All King Arthur's Knights, And She Knew Everything About Beowulf And Grendel, The Ancient Gods And The Not-quite-so-ancient Heroes. She Liked Pirate Stories, Too, But Most Of All She Loved Books That Had At Least A Knight Or A Dragon Or A Fairy In Them. She Was Always On The Dragon's Side By The Way.

Many [book] Even Lay Flat In The Floor Open. Their Spines Upward. Elinor Couldn't Bear To Look! Didn't The Monster Know That Was The Way To Break A Book's Neck?

So Mo Began Filling The Silence With Words. He Lured Them Out Of The Pages As If They Had Only Been Waiting For His Voice, Words Long And Short, Words Sharp And Soft, Cooing, Purring Words. They Danced Through The Room, Painting Stained Glass Pictures, Tickling The Skin. Even When Meggie Nodded Off She Could Still Hear Them, Although Mo Had Closed The Book Long Ago. Words That Explained The World To Her, Its Dark Side And Its Light Side, Words That Built A Wall To Keep Out Bad Dreams. And Not A Single Bad Dream Came Over That Wall For The Rest Of The Night.

Books Are Like Flypaper, Memories Cling To The Printed Pages Better Than Anything Else.