Everyone Is Small At Night.

Believe, Believe, Believe

Because By Now Elinor Had Understood This, Too: A Longing For Books Was Nothing Compared With What You Could Feel For Human Beings. The Books Told You About That Feeling. The Books Spoke Of Love, And It Was Wonderful To Listen To Them, But They Were No Substitute For Love Itself. They Couldn't Kiss Her Like Meggie, They Couldn't Hug Her Like Resa, They Couldn't Laugh Like Mortimer. Poor Books, Poor Elinor.

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?

Believe Me. Sometimes When Life Looks To Be At Its Grimmest, There's A Light Hidden At The Heart Of Things. Clive Barker, Abarat

This World,' She Said. 'do You Really Like It?' What A Question! Farid Never Asked Himself Such Things. He Was Glad To Be With Dustfinger Again And Didn't Mind Where That Was. It's A Cruel World, Don't You Think?' Meggie Went On. 'mo Often Told Me I Forget How Cruel It Is Too Easily.' With His Burned Fingers, Farid Stroke Her Fair Hair. It Shone Even In The Dark. 'they're All Cruel,' He Said. 'the World I Come From, The World You Come From, And This One, Too. Maybe The People Don't See The Cruelty In Your World Right Away, It's Better Hidden, But It's There All The Same.