Beauty and the Beast: Lost in a Book

Reading became my sanctuary,” Belle continued. “I found so much in those books. I found histories that inspired me. Poems that delighted me. Novels that challenged me…” Belle paused, suddenly self-conscious. She looked down at her hands, and in a wistful voice, said, “What I really found, though, was myself.

Isn't that what a good story does? It pulls you in and never lets you go.

Keep being the author of your own story. Never let anyone else write it for you again.

Love is not for cowards.

Mirrors only show us what we are. Books show us what we can be.

Life can be so difficult, and stories help us escape those difficulties. It’s all right to lose yourself in one

Love isn't idiotic. It's hard and messy, confusing and wonderful. But to love and be loved... that's all that matters.

Your always look for the worst in people," said Love reproachfully. "And I always find it," Death said.

Love - real love - sees with the heart, master. Not with the eyes

Belle hesitated. "What is this place?" she asked. "A bit of magic, like all good books," the man replied. "An escape. A place where you can leave cares and worries behind." He smiled. "At least for a chapter or two.

It was more than a book, more than a story. It was like nothing she'd ever known. And everything she'd ever wanted.

Difficulties are things that show people what they are.

All her life, she'd loved books. She loved the look of them, the smell of them, the sweet weight of them in her arms. Most of all, she loved the feeling she got every time she picked one up-the feeling of holding an entire world in her hands.

She might be a captive, but in this room, with a book in her hand, she could be free.

Love-real love- sees with the heart, master. Not with the eyes." The Beast looked at him skeptically. "How do you know that?" "Because I'm in love with a woman who's a feather duster," said Lumiere. "That's how.

Belle's tears spilled over. "Even if I could get out of this place, I wouldn't know where to go," she sobbed. "Where is it, Lucanos? Where is my home?" The beetle sighed. He touched the tip of one leg to the place over Belle's heart. "It's here, foolish girl," he said. "Home is all the people, all the places, and all the things that you love. You carry it wherever you go. Don't you know that?

Home's all the people, all the places, and all the things that you love. You carry it wherever you go.

It's a wonderful thing to read about other people's lives, but it's important to live your own life too - no matter how challenging that life may sometimes be.

We all make mistakes, the danger lies in letting those mistakes make us. Make us believe we can't put things right. Make us think there's no hope. Make us give up.

But all we need to do is begin. The rest will take care of itself. A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step.

An escape can become escapism before we even know it. Books are wonderful things, but you can't live in someone else's story. You have to live your own story.

But then again, it's easy to love those who've done right by us, don't you think? A bit harder to love those who've done us wrong.

Pain, fear…they can turn you into something you were never meant to be.

Wounds can heal if you pull the thorns out.

Would you like to go for a walk through the grounds instead? The brisk air will put some colour back into your cheeks. You look so pale this morning. Surely you've noticed." "How could I?" Belle asked. "There aren't any mirrors here." "True." "Because you broke them all." The Beast cleared his throat. "Also, true," he said. "Personally? I like books better than mirrors," he added, trying to lighten the mood. "Mirrors only show us what we are. Books show us what we can be.

Lucanos nodded [...] 'She's the girl who sees with her heart.' Aranae rolled all eight of her eyes. She chittered again, in a scolding tone this time. When she finished, she crossed two of her legs and gave Belle a dirty look. Belle shrank under her disapproving glare, 'What did she say?' she asked timidly. 'She said your heart needs glasses.

You're playing by the Rule of Three," said Love. "Named for the three Fates, the first of whom holds the spool upon which the thread of life is wound; the second, who pulls that thread; and the third, who snips it. If Belle eats three things in Nevermore, and leave three things, she'll be bound to it.

Oh, my. Oh, dear," he said. "Is this also love? This terrible pain?" Belle nodded. "Love is hard. I had no idea how hard. Is it worth the pain?" "Yes," Belle said. "It is.

To love, to truly love another—that is not for the faint of heart. Why, I've seen a husband mop the brow of his plague-ridden wife, heedless of his own safety. I've seen a murderer's mother weep at the gallows, and a starving boy give his last crust of bread to his sister. Love is so strong, so ferocious, that she frightens even me. Me…