Mo Could Paint Pictures In

I'm Perfectly Happy To Know The World At Secondhand. It's A Lot Safer.

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.

Every Reader Knows About The Feeling That Characters In Books Seem More Real Than Real People.

The Night Breathed Through The Apartment Like A Dark Animal. The Ticking Of A Clock. The Groan Of A Floorboard As He Slipped Out Of His Room. All Was Drowned By Its Silence. But Jacob Loved The Night. He Felt It On His Skin Like A Promise. Like A Cloak Woven From Freedom And Danger.

And My Father Always Took Me To The Library. We Were Both Book Addicts.