Nobody Loves Only Once.

Everything Gets To Me. I'm Very Sentimental.

Stories Never Really End...even If The Books Like To Pretend They Do. Stories Always Go On. They Don't End On The Last Page, Any More Than They Begin On The First Page.

The Night Breathed Through The Apartment Like A Dark Animal. The Ticking Of A Clock. The Groan Of A Floorboard As He Slipped Out Of His Room. All Was Drowned By Its Silence. But Jacob Loved The Night. He Felt It On His Skin Like A Promise. Like A Cloak Woven From Freedom And Danger.

How Fast The Ears Learned To Tell What Sounds Meant, Much Faster Than It Took The Eyes To Decipher Written Words.

If I Was A Book, I Would Like To Be A Library Book, So I Would Be Taken Home By All Different Sorts Of Kids.