The Night Swallowed Him Up Like A

What's The Matter Princess? Do You Know The End Of Your Story?

Isn't It Odd How Much Fatter A Book Gets When You've Read It Several Times?" Mo Had Said..."as If Something Were Left Between The Pages Every Time You Read It. Feelings, Thoughts, Sounds, Smells...and Then, When You Look At The Book Again Many Years Later, You Find Yourself There, Too, A Slightly Younger Self, Slightly Different, As If The Book Had Preserved You Like A Pressed Flower...both Strange And Familiar.

We're All Liars When It Serves Our Purpose.

Who Are You?' Mo Looked At The White Women. Then He Looked At Dustfinger's Still Face. Guess.' The Bird Ruffled Up Its Golden Feathers, And Mo Saw That The Mark On Its Breast Was Blood. You Are Death.' Mo Felt The Word Heavy On His Tongue. Could Any Word Be Heavier?

Weren’t All Books Ultimately Related? After All, The Same Letters Filled Them, Just Arranged In A Different Order. Which Meant That, In A Certain Way, Every Book Was Contained In Every Other!