When You Open A Book

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.

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.

She Is A Real Bookworm. I Think She Lives On Print. Her Whole House Is Full Of Books - Looks As If She Likes Them Better Than Human Company.

Dustfinger Closed His Eyes And Listened. He Was Home Again.

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?