Human passions have mysterious ways , in children as well as grown ups. Those affected by them can't explain them, and those who haven't known them have no understanding of them at all. Some people risk their lives to conquer a mountain peak. No one, not even they themselves, can really explain why . Others ruin themselves trying to win the heart of a certain person who wants to do nothing with them. Still others are destroyed by their devotion to the pleasures of the table. Some are so bent on winning a game of chance that they lose everything they own, and some sacrifice everything for a dream that can never come true. Some think their only hope of happiness lies in being somewhere else, and spend their whole loves traveling from place to place. And some find no rest until they have become powerful. In short, there are as many different passions as there are people.
Bastian Balthazar Bux's passion was books.
If you have never spent whole afternoons with burning ears and rumpled hair, forgetting the world around you over a book, forgetting cold and hunger ...
If you have never read secretly under the bedclothes with a flashlight, because your father or mother or some other well -meaning person has switched off the lamp on the plausible ground that it was time to sleep because you had to get up sp early...
If you have never wept bitter tears because a wonderful story has come to an end and you must leave of the characters with whom you have shared so many adventures, whom you have loved and admired, for whom you have hoped and feared, and without whose company life seems empty and meaningless...
If such things have not been a part of your own experience, you probably won't understand what Bastian did next.
--The Neverending Story.
How I love these lines. And for the love of books ...i do do do understand what Bastian did next!! :))
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
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