Shall I tell her? Shall I be a kind and merciful narrator and take our girl aside? Shall I touch her new, red heart and make her understand that she is no longer one of the tribe of heartless children, nor even the owner of the wild and infant heart of thirteen-year-old girls and boys? Oh, September! Hearts, once you have them locked up in your chest, are a fantastic heap of tender and terrible wonders--but they must be trained. A heart can learn ever so many tricks, and what sort of beast it becomes depends greatly upon whether it has been taught to sit up or to lie down, to speak or to beg, to roll over or to sound alarms, to guard or to attack, to find or to stay. But the trick most folk are so awfully fond of learning, the absolute second they've got hold of a heart, is to pretend they don't have one at all. It is the very first danger of the hearted. Shall I give fair warning, as neither you nor I was given?
By now, my dear friends, you know me better.
I've discovered that Catherynne M. Valente's Fairy Land books are some of the most beautifully written I've even come across. Think of Marcus Zusak if he wrote fluffy fantasy stories. I came across this bit this morning and thought it was a good example. If you are more than a casual reader and have an appreciation for good words, I recommend you check her out.