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Kindle Notes & Highlights
It is often the case that, at times of great anxiety, when the diversion of a good story should seem most welcome, one is least equipped to focus one’s mind on reading.
The first words of a new book are so delicious—like the first taste of a cookie fresh from the oven and not yet properly cooled.
Fibs, you must know, are entirely acceptable when they serve the purpose of getting one to the library.
the children were greeted by the sort of cool and reverent silence known only to places that house books—well, and perhaps artwork and religious artifacts.
A well-chosen bedtime story sets you on the path to the dream you most need to have.
As the children sank into sleep, the words of the familiar rhyming tale were comfort and tenderness, ritual and home. A sort of prayer. A sort of lullaby. It set them on the path to dreams that felt rather like hope.
Mrs. Müller’s eyes sparkled. “I believe it was the poet, Mr. Yeats, who said that the world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper?”
Shelves lined every available bit of wall, and more books made themselves comfortable on the floor, stacked on side tables, lined up between bookends on the mantel. What could have felt untidy felt instead as Mrs. Müller had said. Friendly.
