In many ways, a book is, in itself, a tiny universe. Each page is like a newly formed galaxy, fashioned from a single, pulsing thought. A book travels for days, for years, sometimes for centuries to meet you at an exact point in time.
LANG LEAV
Why do you write? he asked. So I can take my love for you and give it to the world, I reply. Because you won’t take it from me.
