I Like A Composer Called Henry Purcell,

If You Keep Pretending You're In That Book, It Will Make You Not Want To Live In The Life You're In.

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?

There Was Another Reason [she] Took Her Books Whenever They Went Away. They Were Her Home When She Was Somewhere Strange. They Were Familiar Voices, Friends That Never Quarreled With Her, Clever, Powerful Friends -- Daring And Knowledgeable, Tried And Tested Adventurers Who Had Traveled Far And Wide. Her Books Cheered Her Up When She Was Sad And Kept Her From Being Bored.

Dustfinger Closed His Eyes And Listened. He Was Home Again.

Isn't It Odd How Much Fatter A Book Gets When You've Read It Several Times?