If all the days and nights in the world were to cease to be, I still hold that we were meant to meet and to love and to know the pain of violent disillusion.

No! You have hope! You have motive! Labour must be the cure, not sympathy! Labour is the only radical cure for rooted sorrow!

The moment my head touched my pillow, I heard Nicolae in my mind:'So: my little theatricals were well received?''You made an excellent impression,' I replied in thought, with a little smile.'I feel you smiling. I wish I was there to see it.'I stifled a surprised gasp. 'How does this bond work between us? Can you read my thoughts at any time, or only if I send them to you?''I can read your mind at any time now, my darling.

Forgive me. I should not have opened those letters, Mina; but from the moment the first envelope touched my hand, I felt something that I cannot explain. I read your precious words. It was as if your spirit were emanating off the page. I could not bear to part with them."His voice was filled with such emotion and apparent sincerity that- despite myself- it made a tiny chink in my wall of fear and hatred.

You have found the person with whom you wish to share all the days of your life." His eyes lifted to mine and settled there, and he added, his voice soft and deep, "I have been searching for such a person for... a very long time."Under his gaze, I found it hard to breathe. "You will find her one day," I managed."Yes," he returned quietly, his eyes never leaving mine, "I believe I shall.

Did I fall asleep and dream- or did I imagine it, fully awakened? I cannot be sure; all I remember is that the tall figure with the red eyes from my earlier dream appeared again in my mind, and his voice called to me out of the darkness in a tone that was both adamant and softly entrancing:"My darling: you will soon be mine.

I was fortunate to attend a school with an excellent library

To love, to be loved, and to be useful: these are the most important elements in a happy, meaningful life, and they can be achieved anywhere.

Change often brings unimagined opportunity...If there is no struggle, there is no progress. To live in a safe cocoon- I believe that is not truly living. It is stagnation.

To my amazement, miraculously, the lid suddenly loosened and slid all the way open, revealing its hidden cargo: A stack of small paper booklets. Dozens and dozens of them. Booklets made of ordinary sheets of white writing paper, folded in half, and hand-stitched along the spine. Booklets in remarkably pristine condition, all covered in a small, neat handwriting that I instantly recognized. The hair stood up on the back of my neck. I could hardly breathe.