我们
All our knowledge merely helps us to die a more painful death than the animals that know nothing.
There is no despair so absolute as that which comes with the first moments of our first great sorrow, when we have not yet known what it is to have suffered and be healed, to have despaired and have recovered.
We are never the same with others as when we are alone. We are different, even when we are in the dark.
Happiness is rarely absent; it is we that know not of its presence.
The books that we love, they love us back. And just as we mark our places in the pages, those pages leave their marks on us.
We make up horrors to help us cope with the real ones.
Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.
The stories we love best do live in us forever.
We do not need magic to transform our world. We carry all the power we need inside ourselves already.
Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic.