Sissy

“WARNING: DO NOT READ BEYOND THIS PAGE!

Good.
Now I know I can trust you.
You’re curious. You’re brave. And you’re not afraid
to lead a life of crime.
But let’s get something straight: if, despite my
warning, you insist on reading this book, you can’t
hold me responsible for the consequences.
And, make no bones about it, this is a very
dangerous book.
No, it won’t blow up in your face. Or bite your head
off. Or tear you limb from limb.
It probably won’t injure you at all. Unless
somebody throws it at you, which is a possibility that
should never be discounted.
Generally speaking, books don’t cause much harm.
Except when you read them, that is. Then they cause
all kinds of problems.
Books can, for example, give you ideas. I don’t
know if you’ve ever had an idea before, but, if you
have, you know how much trouble an idea can get
you into.
Books can also provoke emotions. And emotions
sometimes are even more troublesome than ideas.
Emotions have led people to do all sorts of things
they later regret – like, oh, throwing a book at someone else.

But the main reason this book is so dangerous is
that it concerns a secret.
A big secret.”
― Pseudonymous Bosch, The Name of This Book Is Secret

“Peter...” She let her head fall back against the seat and sighed. “Let’s not go there.”
“That’s what people always say about places where they already are.”
― Michel Faber, The Book of Strange New Things

“But if a man be alone, let him look at the stars. The rays that come from those heavenly worlds, will separate between him and vulgar things. One might think the atmosphere was made transparent with this design, to give man, in the heavenly bodies, the perpetual presence of the sublime. Seen in the streets of cities, how great they are! If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore; and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God which had been shown! But every night come out these envoys of beauty, and light the universe with their admonishing smile.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature

“I am a collection of dismantled almosts.”
― Anne Sexton, Anne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters