We have an obligation to Read For Pleasure. If others see us reading, we show that reading is A Good Thing.” “It gets you through good times and it gets you through the other ones.
But how can you walk away from something and still come back to it?’ ‘Easy,’ said the cat. ‘Think of somebody walking around the world. You start out walking away from something and end up coming back to it.
The lovelorn came, too. The alone. The lunatics-they were brought here, sometimes. Got their name from the moon, it was only fair the moon had a chance to fix things.
Destiny smells of dust and the libraries of the night.
I love you is a good thing to say if you can mean it.
A click: the sound of a switchblade opening, empty, lonely and dark.
People are dreams and awkwardness and gawk.
Valentine preened, “Oh, I’m a panther,” he said. “I shall slip unnoticed through the darkness like a dark unnoticeable slippy thing.
There. Consider yourself warned. There are so many little triggers out there, being squeezed in the darkness even as I write this. This book is correctly labeled. Now all we have to worry about is all the other books, and, of course, life, which is huge and complicated and will not warn you before it hurts you.
Let’s see. Well, seeing that today certainly is my day – why don’t you call me Wednesday? Mister Wednesday. Although given the weather, it might as well be Thursday, eh?
But then I thought, just because we are few and they are many, we are weak, and they are powerful, it does not mean that we are lost.
Promise them anything, but do what you will.
Before I go into that night where none can follow, there are things I must tell you...
Hearts may break, but hearts are the toughest of muscles, able to pump for a lifetime, seventy times a minute, and scarcely falter along the way.
She is not waiting. Not quite. It is more that the years mean nothing to her anymore...
He’s a little bit dodgy in the same way that rats are a little bit covered in fur but he’ll be there.
We have an obligation to make things beautiful, to not leave the world uglier than we found it.
The people had the glazed, beaten look you only see in airports and prisons. If Hell is other people, thought Shadow, then Purgatory is airports.
Coraline took a deep breath and stepped into the darkness, where strange voices whispered and distant winds howled. She became certain that there was something in the dark behind her: something very old and very slow. Her heart beat so hard and so loudly she was scared it would burst out of her chest. She closed her eyes against the dark. Eventually.
Because people would have to remember books, if other people burn them or forget them. We will commit them to memory. We will become them. We become authors. We become their books.