I Love To Read Aloud.

Dustfinger Still Clearly Remembered The Feeling Of Being In Love For The First Time. How Vulnerable His Heart Had Suddenly Been! Such A Trembling, Quivering Thing, Happy And Miserably Unhappy At Once.

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.

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

Isn't It Odd How Much Fatter A Book Gets When You've Read It Several Times?

He Longed For The Deep As She Longed For The Night Sky And For White Lilies Floating On Water -- Although She Still Tried To Convince Herself That Love Alone Could Feed Her Soul.