Words Were Useless. At Times, They Might

Everything Gets To Me. I'm Very Sentimental.

The Night Belongs To Beasts Of Prey, And Always Has. It's Easy To Forget That When You're Indoors, Protected By Light And Solid Walls.

There Could Be Few Men Whose Love For A Woman Had Been Written On His Face With A Knife.

Fire And Water," He Said, "don't Really Mix. You Could Say They're Incompatible. But When They Do Love Each Other, They Love Passionately.

If You Take A Book With You On A Journey," Mo Had Said When He Put The First One In Her Box, "an Odd Thing Happens: The Book Begins Collecting Your Memories. And Forever After You Have Only To Open That Book To Be Back Where You First Read It. It Will All Come Into Your Mind With The Very First Words: The Sights You Saw In That Place, What It Smelled Like, The Ice Cream You Ate While You Were Reading It... Yes, Books Are Like Flypaper—memories Cling To The Printed Page Better Than Anything Else.