He Wants To Be Grown-up.

Weren’t All Books Ultimately Related? After All, The Same Letters Filled Them, Just Arranged In A Different Order. Which Meant That, In A Certain Way, Every Book Was Contained In Every Other!

No Prince Had Lived In Those Wretched Hovels, No Red-robed Bishops, Only Farmers And Laborers Whose Stories No One Had Written Down, And Now They Were Lost, Buried Under Wild Thyme And Fast Growing Spurge.

What Was A Slap For Ten Pages Of Escapism, Ten Pages Far From Everything That Made Him Unhappy, Ten Pages Of Real Life Instead Of The Monotony That Other People Called The Real World?

Only In Books Could You Find Pity, Comfort, Happiness And Love.

Why Could She Remember Nothing But Stories Of Frightened People When Capricorn Looked At Her? She Usually Found It So Easy To Escape Somewhere Else, To Get Right Inside The Minds Of People And Animals Who Existed Only On Paper, So Why Not Now? Because She Was Afraid. "because Fear Kills Everything," Mo Had Once Told Her. "your Mind, Your Heart, Your Imagination.