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Quote by Stephen Chbosky

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The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Charlie, the protagonist, navigates the complexities of high school life, dealing with issues such as bullying, family dynamics, and the onset of first love. The story is told through a series of letters, offering a candid and introspective look into Charlie's journey as he discovers the world around him and his own place within it. more

Author

Stephen Chbosky
Stephen Chbosky

Stephen Chbosky, born on January 25, 1970, is an acclaimed American novelist known for his profound psychological portrayals and unique narrative style. His works, such as 'Wonder', have gained widespread popularity and critical acclaim. more

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“But you love books, then,” Aunt Queen was saying. I had to listen. “Oh, yes,” Lestat said. “Sometimes they are the only thing that keeps me alive.” “What a strange thing to say at your age,” she laughed. “No, but one can feel desperate at any age, don’t you think? The young are eternally desperate,” he said frankly. “And books, they offer one hope —- that a whole universe might open up from between the covers, and falling into that new universe, one is saved.”

“I care not how humble your bookshelf may be, or how lonely the room which it adorns. Close the door of that room behind you, shut off with it all the cares of the outer world, plunge back into the soothing company of the great dead, and then you are through the magic portal into that fair land whither worry and vexation can follow you no more. You have left all that is vulgar and all that is sordid behind you. There stand your noble, silent comrades, waiting in their ranks. Pass your eye down their files. Choose your man. And then you have but to hold up your hand to him and away you go together into dreamland”

“The Chinese considered the moon to be yin, feminine and full of negative energy, as opposed to the sun that was yang and exemplified masculinity. I liked the moon, with its soft silver beams. It was at once elusive and filled with trickery, so that lost objects that had rolled into the crevices of a room were rarely found, and books read in its light seemed to contain all sorts of fanciful stories that were never there the next morning.”