Lucy Adlington

You don’t have books?!’ Rose almost sat up and banged her head on the roof rafters. That made the rats jump. ‘How can you live without reading?”Pretty well so far.’ I laughed. ‘Stories are just made-up stuff anyway.”Says who? I think they’re a different way of telling the truth.’ Then, ‘Seriously – no books? Oh, Ella, you have no idea what you’ve been missing! Stories are food and drink and life…I mean, haven’t you heard the story about a girl who made a gown out of starlight?”A gown out of starlight? How could you even do that…?”Well,’ said Rose. ‘Once upon a time…’And that was that. No sleep for me till Rose wrapped up with a triumphant The End.

You don’t have books?!’ Rose almost sat up and banged her head on the roof rafters. That made the rats jump. ‘How can you live without reading?”Pretty well so far.’ I laughed. ‘Stories are just made-up stuff anyway.”Says who? I think they’re a different way of telling the truth.’ Then, ‘Seriously – no books? Oh, Ella, you have no idea what you’ve been missing! Stories are food and drink and life…I mean, haven’t you heard the story about a girl who made a gown out of starlight?”A gown out of starlight? How could you even do that…?”Well,’ said Rose. ‘Once upon a time…’And that was that. No sleep for me till Rose wrapped up with a triumphant The End.

– Lucy Adlington –

The Red Ribbon

© License assigned to YouCanQuoteME. License CC BY-NC 4.0 NC
📲 Copy this QR code to share the phrase wherever you want
QR del artículo

Do you want to publish your thoughts, reflections, or your own quotes?

Publish your quotes
Share our content

Related quotes

John Connolly

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 head long after the books that contained them were cast aside. They were both an escape from reality and an alternative reality themselves. They were so old, and so strange, that they had found a kind of existence independent of the pages they occupied. The world of the old tales existed parallel to ours, but sometimes the walls separating the two became so thing and brittle that the two worlds started to blend into each other. That was when the trouble started. That was when the bad things came. That was when the Crooked Man began to appear to David.

Chris Wooding

The books were legends and tales, stories from all over the Realm. These she had devoured voraciously – so voraciously, in fact, that she started to become fatigued by them. It was possible to have too much of a good thing, she reflected. “They’re all the same,” she complained to Fleet one night. “The soldier rescues the maiden and they fall in love. The fool outwits the wicked king. There are always three brothers or sisters, and it’s always the youngest who succeeds after the first two fail. Always be kind to beggars, for they always have a secret; never trust a unicorn. If you answer somebody’s riddle they always either kill themselves or have to do what you say. They’re all the same, and they’re all ridiculous! That isn’t what life is like!” Fleet had nodded sagely and puffed on his hookah. “Well, of course that’s not what life is like. Except the bit about unicorns – they’ll eat your guts as soon as look at you. those things in there” – he tapped the book she was carrying – “they’re simple stories. Real life is a story, too, only much more complicated. It’s still got a beginning, a middle, and an end. Everyone follows the same rules, you know. . . It’s just that there are more of them. Everyone has chapters and cliffhangers. Everyone has their journey to make. Some go far and wide and come back empty-handed; some don’t go anywhere and their journey makes them richest of all. Some tales have a moral and some don’t make any sense. Some will make you laugh, others make you cry. The world is a library, young Poison, and you’ll never get to read the same book twice.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *