How do I fix it?” Zachary asks. “There is no fixing. There is only moving forward in the brokenness.
Los secretos tienen poder. Y ese poder disminuye cuando son compartidos, asi que estan bien guardados y bien cuidados. Compartir secretos, secretos reales, importantes, con una persona, los cambiara.
The future crashing into the present like a wave.
Can’t make an egg without breaking a few metaphors.
Even tiny empires fall.
You may be by yourself but you are not alone.
She remembers people and fairies and dragons with equal clarity.
When the beaded curtain parts with a sound like rain, it is Marco who enters the fortune-teller’s chamber, and Isobel immediately flips her veil from her face, the impossibly thin black silk floating back over her head like mist.
She tries to think the way she imagines Marco.
Move through this,” Simon advises him. “Let it move through you and then let it go.
What is this?” he asks. Meaning all of it, everything, and trusting she will understand. “I will never have a satisfying answer to that question, Ezra,” she says and the smile that accompanies the sentiment is a sad one. “This is the rabbit hole. Do you want to know the secret to surviving once you’ve gone down the rabbit hole?” Zachary nods and Mirabel leans forward. Her eyes are ringed with gold. “Be a rabbit,” she whispers.
She talked a lot about eggs and keeping them from breaking.” “If an egg breaks it becomes more than it was,” Mirabel says, after considering the matter. “And what is an egg, if not something waiting to be broken?
They take an unspoken vow to no longer tell their own stories in reverence to the ones that came before and to the ones that shall follow.
I wanted to read it,” Simon explains, though it seems obvious. What else would he want to do with a book? Though it is not quite true. He wants to do more than read it. He wants to study it. He wants to savor it. He wants to use it as a window to see inside another person. He wants to take book into his home, into his life, into his bed because he cannot do the same with the girl who gave it to him.
He attempts various combinations and finds a bee and a key on the coat of arms of a fictional magic school.
All this comfort shouldn’t feel so uncomfortable.
The book is mis-shelved in the fiction section, even though the majority of it is true and the rest is true enough.
A portrait of a young man in a coat with a great many buttons but the buttons are all tiny clocks, from the collar to the cuffs, each reading different times.
The librarians always seem more enthusiastic during J-term, when they can spend more time with books and less with frazzled students and irate faculty.
Los nombres no son de tanta importancia como las personas han de suponer, una etiqueta asignada para identificarte.