The Night Swallowed Him Up Like A

He Put His Hands On Her Shoulders And Kissed Her Full On The Mouth. His Skin Was Wet With Rain. When She Didn't Pull Away, He Took Her Face Between His Hands And Kissed Her Again, On Her Forehead, On Her Nose, On Her Mouth Once More. "you Will Come, Won't You? Promisse!" He Whispered.

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

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.

Down There The Nights Are Bright And Nobody Believes In The Devil.

The Spoken Word Is Nothing. It Hardly Lives Longer Than An Insect! Only The Written Word Is Eternal. - Balbulus