With some books, you run out of words to say before you even open your mouth. You want to hold them, hug them and keep all of the story to yourself. But when you do start talking, you can’t stop. The words flow out and everything is different. You are different.
I didn’t want to read this book at first. It seemed cold and fragile, and my icy fingers needed some warm pages to turn. “If only I was a few years younger when this book came out, I would have loved it.” I said. After all, with some books, your soul requires a certain kind of emptiness to be filled. And the book fits.