I would not want to be a child again, for a child exists in uncertainty and danger. Our flesh and blood, we cannot help but fear for them, as we hope for them to make their way in this life.
The children will need new stories and fairy tales to see them through their nightmares and daydreams, to transfigure their sorrows and fears at not being able to remain children forever.
It’s only a story.′ As if such words made it less real. But I did not believe him even then, for stories were written down, and the words on the page were proof enough. Fixed and permanent in time, the words, if anything, made the people and places more real than the everchanging world.
I beg you to understand and accept that no matter what name, I am what I am.
The flickering candlelight conspired with the silence, and we only interrupted each other’s reading to share a casual delight.
The Glittering World is a stunning phantasmagoria drawn from the world just beneath the surface, aswarm with great and memorable characters and a plot that twists and turns as it hurtles forward. A grand debut. One taste, and you’ll be addicted.
October proved a riot a riot to the senses and climaxed those giddy last weeks before Halloween.
Write it down, boy. If you come across a passage in your reading that you’d like to remember, write it down in your little book; then you can read it again, memorize it, and have it whenever you wish.
Once I learned to read, I could not imagine my life otherwise.
Between the covers, a book can be a sin.
Allure goes beyond appearances to the way they grace the world. Some women propel themselves by means of an internal gyroscope. Others glide through life as if on ice skates. Some women convey their tortured lives through their eyes; others encircle you in the music of their laughter.
I am gone and am not coming back, but I remember everything.
Love makes us do wicked things.
To lose one’s name is the beginning of forgetting.
I followed her into the library. The pale light from our chamber below dissipated in the room, but I could still make out – my heart leapt at the sight – row after row, shelf above shelf, floor to ceiling, a city of books. Speck turned to me and asked, Now, what shall we read first?
As I let go of the past, the past let go of me.
Ben Farmer brings a legend to life in Evangeline, evoking with grace and panache the travails of the Acadians in mid-eighteenth century America from Nova Scotia to New Orleans. Farmer is a wonderful storyteller, and readers won’t soon forget this tale of love and fortitude. Simply riveting.