I Like A Composer Called Henry Purcell,

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 Because This Time Not Fear But Love Made Him Read.

Ten Minutes Can Be A Long Time When You're Waiting With A Beating Heart For Something You Don't Understand, Something You Don't Really Want To Know.

Children Are Caterpillars And Adults Are Butterflies. No Butterfly Ever Remembers What It Felt Like Being A Caterpillar.

Books Are Like Flypaper, Memories Cling To The Printed Pages Better Than Anything Else.