Writing Stories Is A Kind

Why Could She Remember Nothing But Stories Of Frightened People When Capricorn Looked At Her? She Usually Found It So Easy To Escape Somewhere Else, To Get Right Inside The Minds Of People And Animals Who Existed Only On Paper, So Why Not Now? Because She Was Afraid. "because Fear Kills Everything," Mo Had Once Told Her. "your Mind, Your Heart, Your Imagination.

No Prince Had Lived In Those Wretched Hovels, No Red-robed Bishops, Only Farmers And Laborers Whose Stories No One Had Written Down, And Now They Were Lost, Buried Under Wild Thyme And Fast Growing Spurge.

Nothing Chased Nightmares Away Faster Than The Rustle Of Printed Paper.

Words Are Immortal - Elinor

Isn't It Odd How Much Fatter A Book Gets When You've Read It Several Times?