I Like A Composer Called

Please," She Whispered As She Opened The Book, "please Get Me Out Of Here Just For An Hour Or So, Please Take Me Far, Far Away

Go Back And Rid The Word Of That Book. Fill It With Words Before Spring Comes, Or Winter Will Never End For You. And I Will Take Not Only Your Life For The Adderhead's But Your Daughter's, Too, Because She Helped You Bind The Book. Do You Undersand, Bluejay" Why Two?" Asked Mo Hoarsely. "how Can You Ask For Two Lives In Return For One?

Perhaps There's Another, Much Larger Story Behind The Printed One, A Story That Changes Just As Our Own World Does. And The Letters On The Page Tell Us Only As Much As We'd See Peering Through A Keyhole. Perhaps The Story In The Book Is Just The Lid On A Pan: It Always Stays The Same, But Underneath There's A Whole World That Goes On - Developing And Changing Like Our Own World.

The Night Belongs To Beasts Of Prey, And Always Has. It's Easy To Forget That When You're Indoors, Protected By Light And Solid Walls.

Neither Goyl Nor Men Lived Long Enough To Understand That Yesterday Was Born Of Tomorrow, Just As Tomorrow Was Born Of Yesterday.