“You may be real, but you're still stuck in a book.”

“So," I said. "Seems you're going to be stuck with me for a while."
He smiled. A real smile that lit up his whole face.
"Good”

“You're still trying to protect me. Real or not real," he whispers.
"Real," I answer. It seems to require more explanation. "Because that's what you and I do. Protect each other."”

“They laugh at you until they see your dreams manifesting and they are still stuck in a job they hate.”

“Still, being able to feel pain was good, he thought. It's when you can't even feel pain anymore that you're in real trouble.”

“I'm sorry, I'm still stuck on you losing your head.”
“I didn't lose it. It was stolen.”

“Their house had real hard-cover books in it, and you often saw them lying open on the sofa, the words still warm from being read.”

“If you keep pretending you're in that book, it will make you not want to live in the life you're in.”

“You're Still You”

“When you're old enough to write a book for children, by then you'll have become a grown up and have lost all your jokeyness. Unless you're an undeveloped adult and still have an enormous amount of childishness in you.”