Trapped in silence, Marco traces apologies and adorations across Celia's body with his tongue. Mutely expressing all the things he cannot speak aloud. He finds other ways to tell her, his fingers leaving faint trails of ink in their wake.… — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
They are enthusiasts, devotees. Addicts. Something about the circus stirs their souls, and they ache for it when it is absent. They seek each… — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
“The Burgess sisters arrive together. Tara and Lainie do a little bit of everything. Sometimes dancers, sometimes actresses. Once they were librarians, but that… — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
“Bedtime stories Eventide Rhapsodies Anthologies of Memory Please enter cautiously and feel free to open what is closed” — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
“When all of this is over, no matter which one of us wins, I will not let you go so easily. Agreed?” — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
“Even the ground beneath his feet feels unsatisfying to his boots.” — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
“Why haven’t you asked me how I do my tricks?” Celia asks, once they have reached the point where she is certain he is… — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
I binge write. I think it's because I started seriously writing by participating in National Novel Writing Month, an online-based challenge to write 50,000… — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
I made a wish on this tree years ago," Marco says. "What did you wish for?" Bailey asks. Marco leans forward and whispers in… — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
“He reads histories and mythologies and fairy tales, wondering why it seems that only girls are ever swept away from their mundane lives on… — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
“Behind him, the sheep, left to their own devices, decide to wander through the open gate into the field beyond.” — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
