He Smelled Like Soap And Sleep And Bare Skin. He Smelled Familiar. Not The Déjà Vu Familiar Of Guy

All children, except one, grow up.

'Peter Pan' by J. M. Barrie

Life was a too-tall stack of books that had started to lean to one side, and each new day was another book on top.

‘Goodbye Stranger’ by Rebecca Stead

Despair is a cavern beneath our feet and we teeter on its very brink

'The Year of Wonders' by Geraldine Brooks 

Historical fact: people stopped being human in 1913. That was the year Henry Ford put his cars on rollers and made his workers adopt the speed of the assembly line. At first, workers rebelled. They quit in droves, unable to accustom their bodies to the new pace of the age. Since then, however, the adaptation has been passed down: we've all inherited it to some degree, so that we plug right into joysticks and remotes, to repetitive motions of a hundred kinds.

'Middlesex' by Jeffrey Eugenides  

Without a keeper of words, stories tumble and fall, eventually melting into the ether, never to be heard of again. Stories link us to our mob, doesn't matter if you are Koorie, Irish, Kiwi, Welsh or Indian. It’s the listening and telling of these stories that bring our people close, both young and old. Stories keep our culture and our faith alive.

'Grace Beside Me' by Sue McPherson