The Book That Wouldn’t Burn (The Library Trilogy, #1)

by Mark Lawrence

“Language is like a tree,” Logaris said apropos of nothing, his deep voice descending from on high as if declaiming a favourite poem. “It grows and changes too slowly for us to see, and yet we know that it was once a seed small enough to be lost in the breadth of our palm, and we know that one day it will topple and die and rot away.”

Like most smells, the aroma of books was neither good nor bad. Scent is a peg on which memories are hung.

“There’s a hole through the heart of me,” Evar said. “And it won’t be gone until I find her.”

The point is that you took your chance, you drank the wine, you took what good you could from the world, and you gave it yours.”

“One of the earliest philosophers told us you can’t step into the same river twice. The library taught me you can’t read the same book twice either—you’re the river.”

“We’re all the story we tell about ourselves, silly.” Another wave rocked them. “That’s all anyone ever is—the story they tell, and the stories told about them. Fiction captures more than facts do. That’s why the library keeps it. It’s the most important part of our memories.”