What A Plague Love Is!

All Books Are In Safe Hands With Me. They're My Children, My Inky Children, And I Look After Them Well. I Keep The Sunlight Away From Their Pages, I Dust And Protect Them From Hungry Hookworms And Grubby Human Fingers.

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.

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.

Second, There Are So Many Magical Places In Books That You Cant Go To, Like Hogwarts And Middle Earth, So I Wanted To Set A Story In A Place Where Children Can Actually Go.

The Heart Was A Weak, Changeable Thing, Bent On Nothing But Love, And There Could Be No More Fatal Mistake Than To Make It Your Master. Reason Must Be In Charge. It Comforted You For The Heart's Foolishness, It Sang Mocking Songs About Love, Derided It As A Whim Of Nature, Transient As Flowers. So Why Did She Still Keep Following Her Heart?