My Children Were All Made From Paper

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.

Perhaps Because This Time Not Fear But Love Made Him Read.

The Night Swallowed Him Up Like A Thieving Fox.

It Was Much Easier For Him Now That He Was Smaller To Negotiate His Way Through His Crammed Shop But He Still Tried To Swagger Past The Shelves Like He Used To In The Past. The Attempt Looked So Strange That Scipio Started To Mimic Him Behind His Back. "what's The Silly Giggling About?" Barbarossa Asked When Prosper And Renzo Bust Out Laughing.

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.