The Starless Sea

by Erin Morgenstern

A boy at the beginning of a story has no way of knowing that the story has begun.

“A quality muffin is just a cupcake without frosting,”

It’s like an art museum and an overflowing library were relocated into a subway system.

This sounds absolutely glorious...

Not all stories speak to all listeners, but all listeners can find a story that does, somewhere, sometime. In one form or another.

“We are the stars,” he answers, as though it is the most obvious of facts afloat in a sea of metaphors and misdirections. “We are all stardust and stories.”

Nothing like too many health potions placed just before a door to signify something dangerous to come.

“Be brave,” she says. “Be bold. Be loud. Never change for anyone but yourself. Any soul worth their star-stuff will take the whole package as is and however it grows. Don’t waste your time on anyone who doesn’t believe you when you tell them how you feel.

He tells her how he worries that none of it means anything. That none of it is important. That who he is, or who he thinks he is, is just a collection of references to other people’s art and he is so focused on story and meaning and structure that he wants his world to have all of it neatly laid out and it never, ever does and he fears it never will.

Someone was trying to keep the story from ending, I think. But the story wanted an ending. Endings are what give stories meaning.