A Thousand Enemies Outside The House Are

If You Keep Pretending You're In That Book, It Will Make You Not Want To Live In The Life You're In.

A Book Always Keeps Something Of Its Owner Between Its Pages.

Mo Could Paint Pictures In The Empty Air With His Voice Alone.

So Mo Began Filling The Silence With Words. He Lured Them Out Of The Pages As If They Had Only Been Waiting For His Voice, Words Long And Short, Words Sharp And Soft, Cooing, Purring Words. They Danced Through The Room, Painting Stained Glass Pictures, Tickling The Skin. Even When Meggie Nodded Off She Could Still Hear Them, Although Mo Had Closed The Book Long Ago. Words That Explained The World To Her, Its Dark Side And Its Light Side, Words That Built A Wall To Keep Out Bad Dreams. And Not A Single Bad Dream Came Over That Wall For The Rest Of The Night.

I Love To Read, I Love To Watch Movies, And I Love To Be With My Children.