I Prefer A Story That

When You Open A Book It's Like Going To The Theater First You See The Curtain Then It Is Pulled Aside And The Show Begins.

It Was Much Easier For Him Now That He Was Smaller To Negotiate His Way Through His Crammed Shop But He Still Tried To Swagger Past The Shelves Like He Used To In The Past. The Attempt Looked So Strange That Scipio Started To Mimic Him Behind His Back. "what's The Silly Giggling About?" Barbarossa Asked When Prosper And Renzo Bust Out Laughing.

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

If You Keep Pretending You're In That Book, It Will Make You Not Want To Live In The Life You're In.

Desperate? So What? I'm Desperate, Too!" Fenoglio Snapped At Her. "my Story Is Foundering In Misfortune, And These Hands Here," He Said Holding Them Out To Her, "don't Want To Write Anymore! I'm Afraid Of Words Meggie! 'once They Were Like Honey, Now They're Poison, Pure Poison! But What Is A Writer Who Doesn't Love Words Anymore? What Have I Come To? This Story Is Devouring Me, Crushing Me, And I'm It's Creator!