And My Father Always Took

Her Curiosity Was Too Much For Her. She Felt Almost As If She Could Hear The Books Whispering On The Other Side Of The Half-open Door. They Were Promising Her A Thousand Unknown Stories, A Thousand Doors Into Worlds She Had Never Seen Before.

Sometimes, When You're So Sad You Don't Know What To Do, It Helps To Be Angry.

All Books Are In Safe Hands With Me. They're My Children, My Inky Children, And I Look After Them Well. I Keep The Sunlight Away From Their Pages, I Dust And Protect Them From Hungry Hookworms And Grubby Human Fingers.

The Book She Had Been Reading Was Under Her Pillow, Pressing Its Cover Against Her Ear As If To Lure Her Back Into Its Printed Pages.

He Put His Hands On Her Shoulders And Kissed Her Full On The Mouth. His Skin Was Wet With Rain. When She Didn't Pull Away, He Took Her Face Between His Hands And Kissed Her Again, On Her Forehead, On Her Nose, On Her Mouth Once More. "you Will Come, Won't You? Promisse!" He Whispered.