I'm Perfectly Happy To Know The World

Because By Now Elinor Had Understood This, Too: A Longing For Books Was Nothing Compared With What You Could Feel For Human Beings. The Books Told You About That Feeling. The Books Spoke Of Love, And It Was Wonderful To Listen To Them, But They Were No Substitute For Love Itself. They Couldn't Kiss Her Like Meggie, They Couldn't Hug Her Like Resa, They Couldn't Laugh Like Mortimer. Poor Books, Poor Elinor.

She Read And Read And Read, But She Was Stuffing Herself With The Letters On The Page Like An Unhappy Child Stuffing Itself With Chocolate. They Didn’t Taste Bad, But She Was Still Unhappy.

My Grandmother Told Stories; She Was Very Good At That.

Thats Beautiful! Sad And Beautiful," Murmured Meggie. Why Were Sad Stories Often So Beautiful? It Was Different In Real Life.

Mortimer's Face Twisted When The Piper Pressed His Knife Against His Ribs. Oh Yes, He's Obviously Made The Wrong Enemies In This Story, Thought Orpheus. And The Wrong Friends. But That Was High-minded Heroes For You. Stupid.