“It seemed as if humans had lost the ability to make their own fun. The more they were gifted with inventions, the less they needed one another. They didn't sing or play the fiddle at the hearth; they turned on… — Laura Whitcomb Copy Share Image
“It seemed as if humans had lost the ability to make their own fun.” — Laura Whitcomb Copy Share Image
“A Letter from a Muse to Her Poet: Dear sir, I was called away and couldn’t bring you, but now I feel haunted. I… — Laura Whitcomb Copy Share Image
To desperately hope," I whispered James let out a breath. "To gratefully believe. — Laura Whitcomb Copy Share Image
“The fear of being noticed after a hundred years disappears as I look into a pair of autumn-colored eyes.” — Laura Whitcomb Copy Share Image
“Be a sparrow, I told myself. Be silent and fly away. No one will bother you if you disappear.” — Laura Whitcomb Copy Share Image
The library smells like old books — a thousand leather doorways into other worlds. I hear silence, like the mind of God. I feel… — Laura Whitcomb Copy Share Image
That I am your heart's secret fills me with song. I wish I could sing of you here in my cage. You are my… — Laura Whitcomb Copy Share Image
“I would court you with a passion, if things were different. You’d never get me off your porch swing.” — Laura Whitcomb Copy Share Image
“in the wings, as often mothers and grandmothers are, ready to catch the children should they need saving,” — Laura Whitcomb Copy Share Image
Boys and girls hid in the library stacks or behind the gym and flew at each other with no promise of love or even… — Laura Whitcomb Copy Share Image
“Dear sir: twelve hours is as twelve years to me. I imagine you in your home, smiling, thinking of me. That I am your… — Laura Whitcomb Copy Share Image
Books are boring," James said as he wrote. "They line the walls like a thousand leather doorways to be opened into worlds unknown," I… — Laura Whitcomb Copy Share Image
