This Is Where It All Begins. Everything

I Suppose The Important Thing Is To Make Some Sort Of Difference.

I Know That For Every Reader Who Has Lost The Habit Or Can't Find The Time, There Are People Who've Never Enjoyed Reading And Question The Value Of Literature, Either As Entertainment Or Education, Or Believe That A Love Of Books, And Of Fiction In Particular, Is Sentimental Or Frivolous.

She Had Never Been A Proficient Flirt. Her Spasms Of Kittenish Behaviour Were Graceless And Inept, Like Normal Conversation On Roller Skates. But The Combination Of The Retsina And Sun Made Emma Feel Sentimental And Light-headed. She Reached For Her Roller Skates.

And They Did Have Fun, Though It Was Of Different Kind Now. All That Yearning And Passion Had Been Replaced By A Steady Pulse Of Pleasure And Satisfaction And Occasional Irritation, And This Seemed To Be A Happy Exchange; If There Had Been Moments In Her Life When She Had Been More Elated, There Had Never Been A Time When Things Had Been More Constant.

I Think Reality Is Over-rated