For River and Inara
Bookworms of the world, I would like your help in making this gift for my disabled daughter and her sister. (It doesn’t cost a penny, and it will take only a few moments.)
As my family tumbles from one medical issue to the next and my youngest daughter’s situation remains serious, I oscillate between wanting to dig a hole and scream into it until my throat is hoarse like the railroad workers in Maxine Hong Kingston’s China Men … and wanting to book a long Pacific cruise, which would arguably be more productive though also prohibitively more expensive.
Instead, as I look for a way to channel and direct all of my anguish, fury, helplessness, and fierce need to protect in the face of my daughter’s ongoing illness, I think I’ll ask everyone to help me make this gift for my daughters.
I have said that no matter how bleak things may appear, one thing that we can celebrate with our whole hearts is our access to nearly unlimited stories, that in an often-dark century, that is our single greatest “Wow,” an advancement our ancestors could not have imagined.
I believe that.
For that reason, I want to collect a little Library introducing my daughters to so many books. Not just any books, but books that people care deeply about. These can be young adult novels, novels for older readers; they can be any genre, from the suspenseful to the gruesome to the romantic to the fantastical to noir. It doesn’t really matter. Because chances are, some day, my daughters will want to read something from any or all of those. And one day, they and I and their mother will read this page together. If our Inara is still mostly blind, we will read this page to her.
Growing the Library of Pages
I would like to collect a few … no, dozens … no, hundreds … no, thousands … of quotations from novels for my daughters. I want to make a Library of Pages and a digital zoo that is jammed full of roaring, laughing, giggling, weeping, and whispering stories. It would be easy to find lots of random quotes online, but I want this Library to be a library of quotes that mean something to many readers who we know or who know my books or who know my daughters, or readers who know those readers. (If you are a novelist, I ask only that it not be a quote from your book, but from another book you treasure.)
I want it to be a gift rather than a Google search. That makes it personal, that makes it real.
So here is what I am asking you to do:
1. Read the story of my little Inara (if you’d like to), which you can do here and here — or watch the epilepsy awareness video about Inara that my wife made. You can also meet my older daughter, River, by scrolling down to the middle of this interview; River, who is nearly four, is fiercely protective of her sister.
2. Type a favorite quote from one of your favorite novels into the Comments below, and tell my daughters where the quote is from.
3. Share this page with other readers you know, so that this Library of Pages can grow more and more vast, until its trees with their page-shaped leaves tower over my girls as a mighty shelter and a wilderness of wonders they might explore.
And it will be special to them because they will know that all of you heard their story and grew this library forest for them, one quote at a time, that this forest was the touch of many caring hands and minds.
Thank you for being a part of this.
Yours in truth and fiction,
Stant Litore
UPDATE: A LEATHER-BOUND COPY OF THE LIBRARY:
I have been touched at the level of response to this Library, and I’ve begun copying the Library into an old leatherbound journal that I’ve had at hand waiting for the right purpose for its existence. If, when Inara is older, she remains mostly blind, I will create a Braille copy for her. I’m pretty good with a Braille writer.
“Respect for laws is a pragmatic matter. Women know this instinctively; that’s why they are all smugglers. Men often believe — or pretend — that the law is something sacred, or at least a science — an unfounded assumption very convenient to governments.”
–Robert Heinlein, Time Enough For Love
“I tell you to think black thoughts and you come up with that?!” the lieutenant had screamed. “Is a guinea pig bad? Do you consider a guinea pig the representation of all that is evil?”
Maybe… if it’s an evil guinea pig.”
― Frank Beddor, The Looking Glass Wars
“Growing up is a trap…When they tell you to shut up, they mean stop talking. When they tell you to grow up, they mean stop growing. Reach a nice level plateau and settle there, predictable and unchanging, no longer a threat. If…[she]…is immature, it means she’s still growing, it means she’s still alive. Alive in a dying culture.” –Tom Robbins, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues
“You are the one who transforms, who creates. You can go out into the world and show others. They will feel less alone because of you, they will feel understood, unburdened by you, awakened by you, freed of guilt and shame and sorrow. But to share with them you must wear shoes you must go out you must not hide you must dance and it will be harder you must face jealousy and sometimes rage and desire and love which can hurt most of all because of what can then be taken away. So make that astral dress to fit your own body this time. And here are glass shoes made from your words, the stories you have told like a blower with her torch forming the thinnest, most translucent sheets of light out of what was once sand. But be careful; sand is already broken but glass breaks. The shoes are for dancing not for running away.” — Francesca Lia Block, “Glass” in The Rose and the Beast
“Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.” — Neil Gaiman, Coraline.
Reblogged this on Wandering Paths and commented:
Please help my friend, and fellow wanderer in the perilous (his significantly so!) realm, Stant Litore create a collection of tales to share with his daughters.
” ‘Dear Sir,’ I said – “Although now long estranged,
Man is not wholly lost nor wholly changed.
Dis-graced he may be, yet is not de-throned,
and keeps the rags of lordship once he owned:
Man, Sub-creator, the refracted Light
through whom is splintered from a single White
to many hues, and endlessly combined
in living shapes that move from mind to mind.
Though all the crannies of the world we filled
with Elves and Goblins, though we dared to build
Gods and their houses out of dark and light
and sowed the seed of dragons- ’twas our right
(used or misued). that right has not decayed:
we make still by the law in which we’re made.’ — J.R.R. Tolkien, On Fairy-Stories
Remember, when the nuns tell you to beware of the deceptions of men who make love to you, that the mind of man is on the whole less tortuous when he is love-making than at any other time. It is when he speaks of governments and armies that he utters strange and dangerous nonsense to please the bats at the back of his soul. This is all to your disadvantage, for in love-making you might meet him with lies of equal force, but there are few repartees that the female governed can make to the male governors.
–Rebecca West, Black Lamb and Grey Falcon
“(Let) our efforts burn hot as a sun in a universe that appears governed, though we hope and trust that it isn’t, only by the law of entropy”
Bless you, Shane… That’s one of mine, and that’s very kind, thank you.
Stant
(And I really wish I could help you on that pacific cruise)
“It was a brain; a disembodied brain.” — Madeleine L’Engle, A Wrinkle in Time
“‘Behold your Music! This is your minstrelsy; and each of you shall find contained herein, amid the design I set before you, all those things which it may seem that he himself devised and added. And thou, Melkor, wilt discover all the secret thoughts of thy mind, and wilt perceive that theyare but a part of the whole and tributary to its glory.'”
-JRR Tolkien, The Silmarillion, Ainulindale…which if I had my druthers I’d just quote the whole entire!
.”My poems will have daughters
everywhere,
but my own daughter
will have to grow into
her energy…She will shape a wholly separate name
She will always be my daughter –
my filament of soul
that flew
& caught.” Erica Jong LOVEROOT
\\
“She leaned down and looked at his lifeless face and Leisel kissed her best friend, Rudy Steiner, soft and true on his lips. He tasted dusty and sweet. He tasted like regret in the shadows of trees and in the glow of the anarchist’s suit collection. She kissed him long and soft, and when she pulled herself away, she touched his mouth with her fingers…She did not say goodbye. She was incapable, and after a few more minutes at his side, she was able to tear herself from the ground. It amazes me what humans can do, even when streams are flowing down their faces and they stagger on…”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief
This is but one of many passages that made me love this book even more than I did when I started reading it. I was hooked by the fourth page and cried when I read this. That was six years ago, and I still got misty-eyed putting it up here. Books. Words. Language. They are what makes us different. Special.
Why are so many people getting divorced today? It’s because most of us don’t have extended families anymore. It used to be that when a man and a woman got married, the bride got a lot more people to talk to about everything. The groom got a lot more pals to tell dumb jokes to.
Most of us, if we get married nowadays, are just one more person for the other person. The groom gets one more pal, but it’s a woman. The woman gets one more person to talk to about everything, but it’s a man.
When a couple has an argument nowadays, they may think it’s about money or power or sex or how to raise the kids or whatever. What they’re really saying to each other, though without realizing it, is this: “You are not enough people!”
― Kurt Vonnegut, God Bless You, Dr. Kevorkian
Little girls, like butterflies, need no excuse.
Robert Heinlein, Time Enough for Love
He broke into laughter — warm and rich — and all the apprehension melted away until it was just Kenny, me, and a chocolate chip muffin. And in that moment, surrounded by the hum of friends and customers cradled in familial scents, I swear he sounded like chocolate.
Elisa Lorello and Sarah Girrell, *Why I Love Singlehood*
“‘But I don’t want to go among mad people,’ said Alice. ‘Oh, you can’t help that,’ said the cat. ‘We’re all mad here.'”
~Lewis Carroll
Alice in Wonderland has always been a favorite. I still have the old beat up copy my mom used to read to me and I re-read it every year. Moving around as often as we did I often felt like Alice, being shuffled from one place to the next. Alice has been a constant friend to me; I hope your daughters find in her an invitation to explore and go on adventures both big and small, to never abandon their dreams, and to always embrace imagination.
“They said, “You are a savage and dangerous woman.”
I am speaking the truth. And the truth is savage and dangerous.”
― Nawal El Saadawi, Woman at Point Zero
“I am doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice–not because of his voice, or because he was the smallest person I ever met, or even because he was the instrument of my mother’s death, but because he is the reason I believe in God.”
-John Irving, “A Prayer for Owen Meany”
“The most important things are the hardest things to say. They are things you get ashamed of, because words make them smaller. When they were in your head they were limitless; but when they come out they seem to be no bigger than normal things. But that’s not all. The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried; they are clues that could guide your enemies to a prize they would love to steal. It’s hard and painful for you to talk about these things … and then people just look at you strangely. They haven’t understood what you’ve said at all, or why you almost cried while you were saying it.”
― Stephen King, The Body
“He knew only that the child was his warrant. He said: If he is not the word of God God never spoke.”
— Cormac McCarthy, The Road
“A man is shaped by the events of his life. But a man can be more than the sum of his parts, and it’s not what his life has made of him, but what he makes of his life that matters”
From “Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman”
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat; it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. The Hobbit or There and Back Again by J.R.R. Tolkien
Dearest Inara and River,
I am a librarian at an elementary school in California, and there are so, SO, SO many quotes from books I hope and pray you will find someday. Books that will challenge you, books that will make you think, books that will make you cry, books that will cheer you up, books that will simply make you giggle. I am giving you a quote from one of my favorite that helped me a lot when I was very sad but selfishly so. I pray you will never know that kind of selfishness.
“‘One goes into the forest to pick food and already the thought of one fruit rather than another has grown up in one’s mind. Then, it may be, one finds a different fruit and not the fruit one thought of. One joy was expected and another is given. But this I had never noticed before–that the very moment of the finding there is in the mind a kind of thrusting back, or setting aside. The picture of the fruit you have not found is still, for a moment, before you. And if you wished–if it were possible to wish–you could keep it there. You could send your soul after the good you had expected, instead of turning it to the good you had got. You could refuse the real good; you could make the real fruit taste insipid by thinking of the other.'” –Perelandra, C.S. Lewis
“We all float down here.” –Stephen King, It
Dearest Inara and Stant,
I too have an (adult) daughter with multiple medical disorders and have experienced much of what you are living. It is never, never easy. I am keeping all of you in my thoughts.
One of my favorite children’s books is The Higher Power of Lucky (Susan Patron). Here are the opening lines:
Lucky Trimble crouched in a wedge of shade behind the Dumpster. Her ear near a hole in the paint-chipped wall of Hard Pan’s Found Object Wind Chime Museum and Visitor Center, she listened as Short Sammy told the story told the story of how he hit rock bottom. How he quit drinking and found his Higher Power. Short Sammy’s story, of all the rock-bottom stories Lucky had heard at twelve-step anonymous meetings–alcoholics, gamblers, smokers, and overeaters–was still her favorite.
Sammy told of the day when he had drunk half of a gallon of rum listening to Johnny Cash all morning in his parked ’62 Cadillac, then fallen out of the car when he saw a rattlesnake on the passenger seat biting his dog Roy, on the scrotum.
(NOTE: The inclusion of the word “scrotum” got the Newberry Award winning book banned from several schools and pulled off the shelves of school libraries. That’s only one reason it’s one of my favorites. Lucky is a tough female protagonist who finds her Higher Power–in herself.)
Love to you and your family.
Carol Comfort (friend of Tyler Dilts)
Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering. When they were ten he asked her to marry him. When they were eleven he kissed her for the first time. When they were thirteen they got into a fight and for three weeks they didn’t talk. When they were fifteen she showed him the scar on her left breast. Their love was a secret they told no one. He promised her he would never love another girl as long as he lived. What if I die? she asked. Even then, he said. For her sixteenth birthday he gave her an English dictionary and together they learned the words. What’s this? he’d ask, tracing his index finger around her ankle, and she’d look it up. And this? he’d ask, kissing her elbow. Elbow! What kind of word is that? and then he’d lick it, making her giggle. What about this? he asked, touching the soft skin behind her ear. I don’t know, she said, turning off the flashlight and rolling over, with a sigh, onto her back. When they were seventeen they made love for the first time, on a bed of straw in a shed. Later— when things happened that they could never have imagined— she wrote him a letter that said: When will you learn that there isn’t a word for everything?
~Nicole Krauss, The History of Love: A Novel
I shall cheat – because I can’t pick two – but both will come from books that may become part of your life sooner rather than later:
“I have been wandering to find him and my happiness is so great that it even weakens me like a wound. And this is the marvel of marvels, that he called me Beloved, me who am but as a dog.” -CS Lewis, The Last Battle
“It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer. Charlotte was both.” – EB White, Charlotte’s Web
“There is only one sin and that is theft. When you tell a lie, you steal someone’s right to the truth.”
-Khaled Hosseini, A Thousand Splendid Suns
From Kurt Vonnegut’s “Slaughterhouse Five” — a novel in which Billy Pilgrim has become unstuck in time and, in this scene, watches a war movie in reverse:
It was a movie about American Bombers in the Second World War and the gallant men who flew them. Seen backwards by Billy, the story went like this:
American planes, full of holes and wounded men and corpses took off backwards from an airfield in England. Over France, a few German fighter planes flew at them backwards, sucked bullets and shell fragments from some of the planes and crewmen. They did the same for wrecked American bombers on the ground, and those planes flew up backwards to join the formation.
The formation flew backwards over a German city that was in flames. The bombers opened their bomb bay doors, exerted a miraculous magnetism which shrunk the fires, gathered them into cylindrical steel containers, and lifted the containers into the bellies of the planes. The containers were stored neatly in racks. The Germans below had miraculous devices of their own, which were long steel tubes. They used them to suck more fragments from the crewmen and the planes. But there were still a few wounded Americans, and some of the bombers were in bad repair. Over France though, German fighters came up again, made everything and everybody as good as new.
When the bombers got back to their base, the steel cylinders were taken off their racks and shipped back to the United States of America, where factories were operating night and day, dismantling the cylinders, separating the dangerous contents into minerals. Touchingly, it was mainly women who did this work. The minerals were then shipped to specialist in remote areas. It was their business to put them into the ground, to hide them cleverly, so they would never hurt anybody ever again.
“Promise me you’ll always remember: You’re braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”
― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh
“Good luck: and believe me, dearest Doc—it’s better to look at the sky than live there. Such an empty place; so vague. Just a country where the thunder goes and things disappear.” – Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany’s (Holly Golightly)
“Books loved anyone who opened them, they gave you security and friendship and didn’t ask for anything in return; they never went away, never, not even when you treated them badly. ”
-Cornelia Funke, Inkheart
“Jane, be still; don’t struggle so like a wild, frantic bird, that is rending its own plumage in its desperation.”
“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being, with an independent will; which I now exert to leave you.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
🙂 two for you!
He is not here, the old sun,
As absent as if he were asleep.
The field is frozen. The leaves are dry.
Bad is final in this light.
In this bleak air the broken stalks
Have arms without hands. They have trunks
Without legs or, for that, without heads.
They have heads in which a captive cry
Is merely the moving of a tongue.
Snow sparkles like eyesight falling to earth,
Like seeing falling brightly away.
The leaves hop, scraping on the ground.
It is deep January. The sky is hard.
The stalks are firmly rooted in ice.
It is in this solitude, a syllable,
Out of these gawky flitterings,
Intones its single emptiness,
The savagest hollow of winter-sound.
It is here, in this bad, that we reach
The last purity of the knowledge of good.
-From the poem No Possum, No Sop, No Taters by Wallace Stevens
“The enormousness of the task silenced them. Lyra looked up at the blazing sky She was aware of how small they were, she and her daemon, in comparison with the majesty and vastness of the universe; and of how little they knew, in comparison with the profound mysteries above them”
-Philip Pullman, The Golden Compass
This is one of my favorite books of all time. I first read it in 6th grade and still enjoy it as an adult.
“I am not a smart man, particularly, but one day, at long last, I stumbled from the dark woods of my own, and my family’s, and my country’s past, holding in my hands these truths: that love grows from the rich loam of forgiveness; that mongrels make good dogs; that the evidence of God exists in the roundness of things. This much, at least, I’ve figured out. I know this much is true.”
― Wally Lamb, I Know This Much Is True
“He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it.” – Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
Also from same – “The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don’t.”
And – “Don’t panic.”
“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” – Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
I was assigned to read “Pride and Prejudice” in a 7th grade English class. Until then, I had assumed that anything called “classic” was automatically boring. But I LOVED this book, and it led me to read many other “classics.”
“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”
“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”
“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.
“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”
“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”
“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
The Velveteen Rabbit, by Margery Williams
“No one is willing to believe that adults too, like children, wander about this earth in a daze and, like children, do not know where they come from or where they are going, act as rarely as they do according to genuine motives, and are as thoroughly governed as they are by biscuits and cake and the rod.” Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, The Sorrows of Young Werther
Stant,
I read Goethe in German when I was in college a billion years ago, and I have a recollection of a favorite line for the girls, that, for the life of me, I cannot find using any search vehicle. Since I no longer speak German the memory is locked away in a part of my mind I no longer have access to. So, along with my apologies to Johann, I will list its dusty bastardization here in the form that it lived on in my mind:
“My friend, I can tell you why creativity no longer comes bursting upon us like the floods in spring. It is because of the polite civil engineers living along the banks who know so well how to build levees to keep the torrents away from their flower beds.”
Blessings to Inara and River!
This is also from C.S. Lewis’s Perelandra and, technically, it is a continuity answer because we are told in the first book of the trilogy that the name Ransom is a pseudonym for the main character. Still, the trilogy and the world would be poorer had Lewis not given this insight to his protagonist.
“’It is not for nothing that you are named Ransom,’ said the Voice.
And he knew that this was no fancy of his own. He knew it for a very curious reason – because he had known for many years that his surname was derived not from ransom but from Ranolf’s son. It would never have occurred to him thus to associate the two words. To connect the name Ransom with the act of ransoming would have been for him a mere pun. But even his voluble self did not now dare to suggest that the Voice was making a play upon words. All in a moment of time he perceived that what was, to human philologists, a merely accidental resemblance of two sounds, was in truth no accident.
The whole distinction between things accidental and things designed, like the distinction between fact and myth, was purely terrestrial. The pattern is so large that within the little frame of earthly experience there appear pieces of it between which we can see no connection, and other pieces between which we can. Hence we rightly, for our sue, distinguish the accidental from the essential. But step outside that frame and the distinction drops down into the void, fluttering useless wings. He had been forced out of the frame, caught up into the larger pattern…
‘My name also is Ransom,’ said the Voice.”
I meant to type “continuity error.”
Two quotes, for two girls who are much beloved and are so fortunate to be growing up in a home where books are also beloved:
…I am bombarded yet
I stand
I have been standing all my life in the
direct path of a battery of signals
the most accurately transmitted most
untranslatable language in the universe
I am a galactic cloud so deep
so involuted that a light wave could take 15
years to travel through me
And has taken
I am an instrument in the shape
of a woman trying to translate pulsations
into images
for the relief of the body
and the reconstruction of the mind.
(The last part of my favorite poem, still, after all these years–“Planentarium” by Adrienne Rich. I am captivated by her meditation on the life of a wonderful scientist, Caroline Herschel.)
“If enough of us dream, if a bare thousand of us dream, we can change the world. We can dream it anew!”
(The beautiful visionary cat in Neil Gaiman’s Sandman #18, “The Dream of a Thousand Cats”)
To Inara and River, when you read this, know that your parents love you dearly. It’s their compassion and devotion to you that has brought so many people from across the world to be here, in this moment, sharing with you something truly wonderful. I hope you enjoy it, and treasure it, for the unique gift of love that it is. I also hope that when you read this, your lives are filled with the wonder, and joy, and that nothing is beyond your reach. From Sydney, Australia, I wish you everything you dream of.
As posting a quote from one of my books would be somewhat narcissistic, I turn to one of the books I love, and from that book a quote that has always stayed with me.
“Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past me I will turn to see fear’s path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.” ~ Frank Herbert, Dune
“[Aunt Dahlia] rose, and moved restlessly to the mantelpiece. I could see that she was looking for something to break as a relief to her surging emotions–what Jeeves would have called a palliative–and courteously drew her attention to a terra-cotta figure of the Infant Samuel at Prayer. She thanked me briefly and hurled it against the opposite wall.” – CODE OF THE WOOSTERS, P.G. Wodehouse
SONNET 29
When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess’d,
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
–William Shakespeare
“Overcome space and all we have left is HERE. Overcome time and all we have left is NOW. And in the middle of HERE and NOW, don’t you think we might see each other once in awhile?” Richard Bach, Jonathan Livingston Seagull. I first read this book when I was age 13, after the death of my older brother in a drunk driving accident. I brought me great comfort then and still does today. It is one of my go-to books whenever I am feeling blue and need a spiritual lift.
“The true secret in being a hero lies in knowing the order of things. The swineherd cannot already be wed to the princess when he embarks on his adventures, nor can the boy knock on the witch’s door when she is already away on vacation. The wicked uncle cannot be found out and foiled before he does something wicked. Things must happen when it is time for them to happen. Quests may not simply be abandoned; prophecies may not be left to rot like unpicked fruit; unicorns may go unrescued for a very long time, but not forever. The happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story.”
– The Last Unicorn, by Peter S. Beagle
There’s a lot more I could quote from, but this speaks to the Hero’s Journey that is laid before us all.
Reblogged this on Phasers and Spells and commented:
Check out this post people, and maybe share a quote or two…
“A guy needs somebody―to be near him. A guy goes nuts if he ain’t got nobody. Don’t make no difference who the guy is, long’s he’s with you. I tell ya, I tell ya a guy gets too lonely an’ he gets sick.”
― John Steinbeck, Of Mice and Men