“A paper man. How romantic. And when I tire of him, I can just crumple him into a huge ball.”

“She didn't look up until he was gone. She saw him pas the outside wall of the pavilion and heard his footsteps recede into the stairwell. When he was gone, she bowed her head and let the grief engulf her. Her heart crumpled and shrank, like a ball of paper set on fire.”

“You know cats, always scratching on this or that, but never scratching what you want when you want it. (Like my balls, when they’re itchy!) I recently got him declawed, which sucked for him, but it was great for me because I was tired of always biting his fingernails back when he was nervous.”

“When you sell a man a book you don't sell him just 12 ounces of paper and ink and glue--you sell him a whole new life.”

“I was so tired but I wouldn’t let my eyes close because I was afraid he wouldn’t be there when I woke up, that I just dreamed him.”

“When you sell a man a book you don’t sell him just twelve ounces of paper and ink and glue—you sell him a whole new life. Love and friendship and humour and ships at sea by night—there’s all heaven and earth in a book, a real book I mean.”