The burning point of paper was the moment where I knew that I would have to remember this. Because people would have to remember books, if other people burn them or forget them. We will commit them to memory. We will be come them. We become authors. We become their books.

Stories may well be lies, but they are good lies that say true things, and which can sometimes pay the rent.

Without stories, we are incomplete.

It always rains on the unloved-wet dreams-a fishing expedition-she kisses wyverns (the disneyland analogy)-dinner etiquette and chocolate lovers-desire swears by the first circle-'things are changing'-what can possibly go wrong?

Since the dawn of humanity, stories have allowed each of us to be many.

I think that there should have been some nice wumpires,' said my sister, wistfully. 'Nice, handsome, misunderstood wumpires.'There were not,' said my father.