The Book That Held Her Heart

The wilful ignorance of a people who know in their secret hearts that they’re being lied to and listen anyway because to them the lies are sweet.

If you love someone, let them go. Except when that would be really stupid, like in a crowd and they’re two and you’re their mother.

The library can make sure that nobody has a good excuse for forgetting what happens and striving to prevent repetition. But it cannot stop even that. People have to want to know. I wish I could tell you that free and easy access to information solves these problems—it doesn’t. People find their own wells of poison to drink from.

Choosing a book should be a private business, conducted in the secrecy of the aisles, not on display for strangers’ judgment.

Most books require no key, and yet a closed mind cannot open them. Dressed in Chain, by Eli Nathan

one thing I’ve found over the years, is that if you stay in one spot long enough, and pay close attention, you’ll find that there’s magic everywhere.

The alphabet of scars exists so that those lessons need not be carved into our flesh a second time. Holocaust, author unknown

Information is like water—without it you won’t live long, too much and you’ll drown. And there’s a difference between truth and information. Even correct information is not the same as truth—truth does not mislead—correct information bereft of context can be more dangerous than a lie.

The innocent believe that there are boundaries over which our kind will not step. The complacent understand that there are walls of decency and conscience safeguarding our daily lives. Thick stone walls mortared with faith.

Ah, Aristotle. “Memory is the scribe of the soul.” That’s one of his, and he was not wrong. Where I come from,’ Yute said, ‘we call that one Irad.’ He indicated the man with the book. ‘And his brother is Jaspeth.’ He turned towards the second figure. ‘But we all have our own traditions.

I’m looking for a book.’ ‘A-Any book in particular?’ ‘One that won’t burn.

I will acknowledge that words work better in the business of changing minds when they’re on the page of a book rather than on the tongue of someone with a contrary opinion. They need to be consumed in private and in the reader’s own time. But face to face? In the moment? No. Changing your mind feels like being defeated. It wounds the ego. And our opinions were never founded on words—they’re just the garnish added on for show. A display of plumage to attract those of a similar mind.

When they did look his way, he could sense the effort with which they pushed down any tendril of self-awareness, before it reached up to throttle them with the knowledge of what they’d become.

will acknowledge that words work better in the business of changing minds when they’re on the page of a book rather than on the tongue of someone with a contrary opinion. They need to be consumed in private and in the reader’s own time. But face to face? In the moment? No. Changing your mind feels like being defeated. It wounds the ego. And our opinions were never founded on words—they’re just the garnish added on for show. A display of plumage to attract those of a similar mind.

...to close the book— that was the hard part. To close the book was to steer the story towards its end, to weave in or cut short every thread and fiber. To gather the spilled water and return it to the shattered glass. To bottle the genie once more. Ending any tale an exercise in narrowing possibility, closing off maybes until one moment every thread that had been seeded passed through the eye of the same needle.

The knife hurt going is, but as the blood began to flood around the steel, betrayal was the deeper pain.

Living on the past is all we cab ever do. The future has yet to be forged and the now is gone too quickly for anyone to notice it. The only choice is how far to lag behind the quill tip as it records your story.

The true value of freedom, is revealed only in its absence. It is a structural ingredient whose removal takes wit it the colour, taste and substance of life.

To gain the full measure of any city in a single day simply start with one of its libraries, move on to a market or cathedral, either works equally well, and let the evening find you a tavern, public house, or speakeasy. By the second day the streets will hold little that surprises you.

Mayland watched in silence, his dark eyes wide and unblinking, rumbling only when she spoke of the camps and the children and the gas. “And so you come and talk to the children, to ensure that this terror is not forgotten.” Mayland was first to speak when at last Anne fell silent.

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned. The Second Coming, by William Butler Yeats

He hadn't written the book, but he was in it. He had literally travelled within its pages, and somehow, those pages reached out for him even now. They reached in some ephemeral way, wound so closely around simple hope that in the next moment he could convince himself that hope was all he had ever been. But no. It was here.

The library has never been about taking charge. It's a memory, it's ideas. It might have hoped to stop what is happening here but it's too late. There will be blood and horror and probably all the worst things that humanity is capable of. The library can make sure that nobody has a good excuse for forgetting what happens and striving to prevent repetition. But it cannot stop even that. People have to want to know. I wish I could tell you that free and easy access to to information solves these problems, it doesn't. People find their own wells of poison to drink from." "Who decides what truth is and which truths to hand out? We take to ourselves the power of the almighty when we control it. So, not intending to rule, the library just gives access. The truth is there on the self. You just have to reach out and take it. Information is like water. Without it you won't live long; too much and you'll drown. And there's a difference between truth and information. Even correct information is not the same as truth. Truth does not mislead. Correct information bereaved of context, can be more dangerous than a lie." "... those who want to lead humanity down the darkest paths it can walk, their first instinct is to burn books. Close the gates of information, allow no voices of descent. Prevision of information might not cure these ills but it is an impediment to their formation. The wind can't stop the advance of armies but eventually it wins. In the end mountains become dust and the wind still blows. It is my faith that the library will save us in the end." -Yute

You can fly too,” Livira said. “There’s nothing to it. It’s just a matter of not falling.

Her grandfather said that evil men sought to use any difference to create fear, distrust, and hatred, all of which they would employ to advance their own position.