I Will Try To Write Books Until

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

It's The Same In Real Life: Notorious Murderers Get Off Scot-free And Live Happily All Their Lives, While Good People Die - Sometimes The Very Best People. That's The Way Of The World.

Is There Anything In The World Better Than Words On The Page? Magic Signs, The Voices Of The Dead, Building Blocks To Make Wonderful Worlds Better Than This One, Comforters, Companions In Loneliness. Keepers Of Secrets, Speakers Of The Truth...all Those Glorious Words.

And There Stood Basta With His Foot Already On Another Dead Body, Smiling. Why Not? He Had Hit His Target, And It Was The Target He Had Been Aiming For All Along: Dustfinger’s Heart, His Stupid Heart. It Broke In Two As He Held Farid In His Arms, It Simply Broke In Two, Although He Had Taken Such Good Care Of It All These Years.

There Was Another Reason [she] Took Her Books Whenever They Went Away. They Were Her Home When She Was Somewhere Strange. They Were Familiar Voices, Friends That Never Quarreled With Her, Clever, Powerful Friends -- Daring And Knowledgeable, Tried And Tested Adventurers Who Had Traveled Far And Wide. Her Books Cheered Her Up When She Was Sad And Kept Her From Being Bored.