My Children Were All Made From Paper

Perhaps The Story In The Book Is Just The Lid On A Pan: It Always Stays The Same, But Underneath There's A Whole World That Goes On - Developing And Changing Like Our Own World.

Words,words Filled The Night Like The Fragrance Of Invisible Flowers.

You Know What They Say: When People Start Burning Books They'll Soon Burn Human Beings.

Please," She Whispered As She Opened The Book, "please Get Me Out Of Here Just For An Hour Or So, Please Take Me Far, Far Away

I Like A Composer Called Henry Purcell, And I Love To Listen To Neil Young.