“She reads a lot of books. Good things, books.”

“I tend to have a lot of guy friends.”

“Hi Liz! You're home!" I replied, my voice louder than it probably should've been. "Hey, how's it going?" she asked, her eyes narrowing and moving shiftily from me to Peter and back. "It's going good. Even better. Is it? Yeah, I guess. Good. Really good. Totally better," I babbled, while Peter could only manage a raised hand in greeting and a weird phrase like, "Down the basement." Liz rolled her eyes and trudged off, calling back as she vanished from view, "I want the results of pregnancy tests from both of you by the time I get out of the shower!”

“she read, at peace with the world and happy as only a little girl could be with a fine book and a little bowl of candy..”

“From that time on, the world was hers for the reading. She would never be lonely again, never miss the lack of intimate friends. Books became her friends and there was one for every mood. There was poetry for quiet companionship. There was adventure when she tired of quiet hours. There would be love stories when she came into adolescence and when she wanted to feel a closeness to someone she could read a biography. On that day when she first knew she could read, she made a vow to read one book a day as long as she lived.”

“Before Isabel could read, she loved books.”

“In their rooms, some guests read or made love, but most of them slept, blissfully unaware of the fact that their innkeepers were losing their minds.”