The world is dark, and light is precious.
Come closer, dear reader.
You must trust me.
I am telling you a story.
Come closer, dear reader.
You must trust me.
I am telling you a story.
There is nothing sweeter in this sad world than the sound of someone you love calling your name.
"Once upon a time," he said out loud to the darkness. He said these words because they were the best, the most powerful words that he knew and just the saying of them comforted him.
Love, as we have already discussed, is a powerful, wonderful, ridiculous thing, capable of moving mountains.
This is the danger of loving: No matter how powerful you are, no matter how many kingdoms you rule, you cannot stop those you love from dying.
But, reader, there is no comfort in the word "farewell", even if you say it in French. "Farewell" is a word that, in any language, is full of sorrow. It is a word that promises absolutely nothing.
Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark.
Say it, reader. Say the word "quest" out loud. It is an extraordinary word, isn't it? So small and yet so full of wonder, so full of hope.
Reader, do you think it is a terrible thing to hope when there is really no reason to hope at all? Or is it (as the soldier said about happiness) something that you might just as well do, since, in the end, it really makes no difference to anyone but you?
Despereaux marveled at his own bravery.
He admired his own defiance.
And then, reader, he fainted.
He admired his own defiance.
And then, reader, he fainted.
