The line between fact and fiction is gossamer thin; the difference, vast – but only when you look closely.
I couldn’t live without literature – but you’re likely to be disappointed if you don’t recognise the line and you don’t understand the difference.
The only problem with a childhood spent burrowing in books is that the real thing doesn’t always correspond with the written version. It doesn’t quite live up to the expectation – and you’re not necessarily prepared you for the disappointment.
Aspiring to the unobtainable is always slightly problematic.
You tend to let yourself down.