The Forbidden Library Quotes

“Have you never picked up a book you've read before, and found it speaks to you in a new way?”
― Django Wexler, The Forbidden Library

“Much later, Alice would wonder what might have happened if she had gone to bed when she was supposed to.”
― Django Wexler, The Forbidden Library

“To follow the analogy, as a Reader, you're not part of the story, you just insert yourself into it for a while.”
― Django Wexler, The Forbidden Library

“Besides it's not as though the prisoner can truly die, any more than a character in a novel can. You can always flip back to the first page, can't you?”
― Django Wexler, The Forbidden Library

“Books age, they yellow, the pages dry and crackle and tear. Who can tell what tiny defect will change simple paper and ink into true meaning?”
― Django Wexler, The Forbidden Library

“You're a cat," she said automatically.
"Your powers of perception are astounding," the cat drawled. "Although I feel obliged to point out, in the interests of ontological exactitude, that I am in fact only half cat. Personally, though, I have always considered it the better half."
"And you can talk," Alice said, working her way through the situation.
"Better and better! With brains like that, I can see how you monkeys took over the world.”
― Django Wexler, The Forbidden Library

“The two-car local pulled into North Landing station, which turned out to be little more than a wooden platform,”
― Django Wexler, The Forbidden Library

“felt like someone had pushed jagged shards of glass into her eyes and was twisting them back and forth in the sockets, sending searing tendrils of pain all the way down her body. Her toes curled and her arms jerked, ready to claw at the offending orbs, but Geryon held her in a firm grip. Her vision had gone black, but she could hear someone screaming, a pathetic, little-girl shriek of terror and agony. It”
― Django Wexler, The Forbidden Library

“felt like someone had pushed jagged shards of glass into her eyes and was twisting them back and forth in the sockets, sending searing tendrils”
― Django Wexler, The Forbidden Library

“stopped at once, swaying gently with suddenly halted momentum. All the fronds twitched and fell limp, hanging in gentle curtains like willow fronds ought to, and there was a shower of dislodged leaves and twigs. If the tree-sprite got its hand back on the tree, Alice was certain, it would all start back up again. The fall seemed to have stunned it, and she didn’t intend to give it a chance to recover. The swarmers dropped from the branches like a rain of strange-shaped fruit, bouncing and rolling across the uneven ground, then homing in on the ape-like thing. They charged beak-first, burying the points into its skin, slashing and cutting. Alice, recalling the vicious sharpness of those beaks, quailed at the sight, but there seemed to be no flesh or blood in the tree-sprite. Chunks of bark came away with dry cracks and pops. The thing started to move, freeing its hand from the broken branch and swatting feebly at its tormentors. Alice directed the swarmers to pin it to”
― Django Wexler, The Forbidden Library

“through”
― Django Wexler, The Forbidden Library

“Alice”
― Django Wexler, The Forbidden Library

“Pathetic,' the Dragon rumbled. 'This is what my sister sends against me, after so many years? Children? And the little bones always stick in my teeth...”
― Django Wexler, The Forbidden Library

“He leaned in and kissed her. His lips were dry, and tasted of gritty stone and dust. Alice's fingers curled so hard against the book that they ached, and after a moment or two she closed her eyes.
It seemed like an age before he pulled away. Her lips tingled, as though he'd passed on an electric charge.
"I'm sorry," he said, with a lopsided grin. "It's part of the spell."
Alice had a single moment to be furious before the music of the Siren rose all around her, a quiescent orchestration building to an unexpected crescendo. As her mind drifted away on that exquisite, all-encompassing melody, the last thing she felt were his hands on hers, gently tugging the book from her slackening fingers.”
― Django Wexler, The Forbidden Library