That was always my fear, that perhaps books would lead me astray, teaching me about a life that didn’t match reality.

Literature is the real life of imaginary people.

No secret can remain hidden for ever. Silently and patiently, it waits in the dark. It lets you build your life, carefully stacking the bricks one by one, and then it appears. It deals its blow and everything crumbles. That’s why it remains intact and incorruptible in time, waiting for its ultimate destiny to be revealed.

Never look back; you may only find what you left or let you go.

Literature can remind us that not all life is already written down: there are still so many stories to be told.

Stories of imagination tend to upset those without one.