I Will Try To Write Books Until

A Book Always Keeps Something Of Its Owner Between Its Pages.

When It Came To Hiding, Even Gwin Had Nothing To Teach Dustfinger. A Strange Sense Of Curiosity Had Always Driven Him To Explore The Hidden, Forgotten Corners Of This And Any Other Place, And All That Knowledge Had Now Come In Useful.

What A Plague Love Is!

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?

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?