Non far dimenticare all'altro chi era. Dell'amore faceva parte anche questo.
Manchmal hilft es, wütend zu werden, wenn man vor Traurigkeit nicht ein noch as weiß.
He looked so glorious. Just like the knights I had dreamed about when I was six years old, whacking at brambles iin our garden, imagining I was fighting dragons and giants with a sword that made me in...
Ciò che un libro avrebbe potuto raccontarle non l'aveva mai intimorita. Anzi, di solito non vedeva l'ora di lasciarsi trasportare in un mondo nuovo, inesplorato, e la sua curiosità era tale che si met...
And this time he would have said it, right? I love you. So much. Too much. But that was forbidden. For all time. The Elf would take his heart in payment.
Благодаря профессии отца Мегги не раз знакомилась с людьми, которые любили книги, продавали их, собирали, печатали или, подобно её отцу, уберегали их от тлена, но никогда ещё она не встречала человека...
Paper
Night. Sometimes, yes, Meggie had said. But it only works for children. Which made Mo tweak her nose. Mo. Meggie had never called her father anything else. That night—when so much began and so many th...
[She] did not reply. She didn't want to talk to anyone. She just wanted to listen to what her bewildered heart was telling her.
What's that sticky stuff called?
What was this yearning, tearing at her insides like hunger and thirst? It couldn't be love. Love was warm and soft, like a bed of leaves. But this was dark, like the shade under a poisonous shrub, and...
They’re my children, my inky children, and I look after them well.
There is a sort of busy worm, That will the fairest book deform. Their tasteless tooth will tear and taint The poet, patriot, sage or saint, Nor sparing wit nor learning. Now, if you’d know the reason...
The stars shone down on her like flowers made of light, and their beauty hurt her weary heart.
The poem you brought yesterday,’ said Balbulus in a bored voice as he bent over his work again, ‘it was good. You ought to write such things more often, but I know you prefer writing stories for child...
The night swallowed him up like a thieving fox.
The books in Mo and Meggie’s house were stacked under tables, on chairs, in the corners of the rooms. There were books in the kitchen and books in the lavatory. Books on the TV set and in the closet,...
The Road goes ever on and on Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with weary feet, Until it joins some larger way Where many pat...
Thats beautiful! Sad and beautiful, murmured Meggie. Why were sad stories often so beautiful? It was different in real life.
Sommige boeken proef je,andere verslind je,