It is likely I will die next to a pile of things I was meaning to read.
Reader: Dear Mr. Snicket, What is the best way to keep a secret?
Lemony Snicket: Tell it to everyone you know, but pretend you are kidding.
I love no one but you, I have discovered, but you are far away and I am here alone. Then this is my life and maybe, however unlikely, I’ll find my way back there. Or maybe, one day I’ll settle for second best. And on the same day hell will freeze over, the sun will burn out, and the stars will fall from the sky.
…For all they knew, the islanders had spread the Medusoid Mycelium, and the entire world might be poisoned. This, however, seemed unlikely, as the world, no matter how monstrously it may be threatened, has never been known to succumb entirely.
A Series of Unfortunate Events, The End
Everyone, at some point in their lives, wakes up in the middle of the night with the feeling that they are all alone in the world, and that nobody loves them now and that nobody will ever love them, and that they will never have a decent night’s sleep again and will spend their lives wandering blearily around a loveless landscape, hoping desperately that their circumstances will improve, but suspecting, in their heart of hearts, that they will remain unloved forever. The best thing to do in these circumstances is to wake somebody else up, so that they can feel this way, too.
There are those who say that life is like a book, with chapters for each event in your life and a limited number of pages on which you can spend your time. But I prefer to think that a book is like a life, particularly a good one, which is well worth staying up all night to finish.
There are times to stay put and what you want will come to you, and there are times to go out into the world and find such a thing for yourself.
Lemony Snicket, A Series of Unfortunate Events