“Though I could agree with him that Miss Gamache had a good heart, I couldn't read her book without wanting to plunge an ice pick into it while screaming, 'That's for chapter four!”

“Last night. I couldn't put that book down. I was awake till four this morning finishing it. I didn't know reading could be like that, I had no idea.”

“They could read him, they could study him, they could pick him apart, but they couldn't laugh or be sad with him....”

“I took delight in hurling books across the room if I knew I would not be reading the second chapter. Then I’d go and pick them up again, because they are books, after all, and we are not savages.”

“But as my father told him, and as anyone who reads regularly might agree, the only thing that has to be similar from night to night is the act of turning pages. Everything else changed as soon as we picked up a new book, plunging deep into a new landscape with unfamiliar faces”

“Chapter Twenty-Four: SurpriseBetter Title: Oh My God! I Hate Everything About This Book! I Want To Kill It With Rocks! AGH!”