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The stories in books hate the stories contained in newspapers.

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My feelings for Raphael are mine, and mine alone. I loved him, and that is all anyone needs to know. The rest is no business of any man's.

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These were the tales that echoed in the head long after the books that contained them were cast aside.

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Stories come alive in the telling. (…)They lay dormant, hoping for the chance to emerge. Once someone started to read them, they could begin to change...more

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We are not meant to know the time or the nature of our deaths (for all of us secretly hope that we may be immortal).

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Stories come alive in the telling. Without a human voice to read them aloud, or a pair of wide eyes following them by flashlight beneath a blanket, th...more

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These stories were very old, as old as people, and they had survived because they were very powerful indeed. They were the tales that echoed in the he...more