Books Have To Be Heavy Because The

Perhaps There's Another, Much Larger Story Behind The Printed One, A Story That Changes Just As Our Own World Does. And The Letters On The Page Tell Us Only As Much As We'd See Peering Through A Keyhole. Perhaps The Story In The Book Is Just The Lid On A Pan: It Always Stays The Same, But Underneath There's A Whole World That Goes On - Developing And Changing Like Our Own World.

He Longed For The Deep As She Longed For The Night Sky And For White Lilies Floating On Water -- Although She Still Tried To Convince Herself That Love Alone Could Feed Her Soul.

She Wanted To Return To Her Dream. Perhaps It Was Still Somewhere There Behind Her Closed Eyelids. Perhaps A Little Of Its Happiness Still Clung Like Gold Dust To Her Lashes. Don't Dreams In Fairy Tales Sometimes Leave A Token Behind?

You Really Don't Understand The First Thing About Writing...for One Thing, Early In The Morning Is The Worst Possible Time. The Brain Is Like A Wet Sponge At That Hour. And For Another, Real Writing Is A Question Of Staring Into Space And Waiting For The Right Ideas.

She Read And Read And Read, But She Was Stuffing Herself With The Letters On The Page Like An Unhappy Child Stuffing Itself With Chocolate. They Didn’t Taste Bad, But She Was Still Unhappy.