The Book That Broke the World (The Library Trilogy, #2)

by Mark Lawrence

Every loss of consequence creates within us a cavity in which that ache makes a home. An empty space full of sorrow. A void in which silent screams can echo, and unshed tears may pool. Some losses are so great they hollow us. We are cored. Nothing but skin wrapped around the hurt we’ve become.

There is, inside me, an unanswered ache, small but constant, caused by no particular trial or tribulation, simply by the burden of existence, the effort of holding aloft my own sky. Each of us is Atlas and why some are crushed and others effortless is a mystery whose answer will not translate into my tongue.

One of the worst things about humans is everything. But I’ll tell you what’s ten times worse than a human . . . two humans. And what’s ten times worse than two humans? You’ve guessed it: one child.

What was life if not a song sung to the music of the past for the future to hear?

The wait for the world to tell you that you’re special can be a long and lonely one. Better to get off your arse and let it know that you are.