Page 149 - The Midnight Library
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                   ‘ e   fact   that   you   have   so   thoroughly   changed   your   attitude   towards

                dying.’
                   ‘What?’
                   ‘You wanted to die and now you don’t.’
                   It   dawned    on   Nora   that   Mrs   Elm   might   be   close   to   having   a   point,

                although    not   quite   the   whole   point.   ‘Well,   I   still   think   my   actual   life   isn’t
                worth living. In fact, this experience has just managed to confirm that.’
                   She shook her head. ‘I don’t think you think that.’
                   ‘I do think that. at’s why I said it.’

                   ‘No.  e  Book  of  Regrets  is  getting  lighter.  ere’s  a  lot  of  white  space  in
                there now . . . It seems that you have  spent all your life  saying things that you
                aren’t really thinking. is is one of your barriers.’
                   ‘Barriers?’

                   ‘Yes. You have a lot of them. ey stop you from seeing the truth.’
                   ‘About what?’
                   ‘About   yourself.   And   you   really   need   to   start   tr ying.   To   see   the   truth.
                Because this matters.’

                   ‘I thought there were an infinite number of lives to choose from.’
                   ‘You  need  to  pick  the  life  you’d  be  most  happy  inside.  Or  soon  there  won’t
                be a choice at all.’
                   ‘I met someone who has been doing this for a long time  and he  still hasn’t

                found a life that he is satisfied with . . .’
                   ‘Well, Hugo’s is a privilege you might not have.’
                   ‘Hugo? How do you—’
                   But then she remembered Mrs Elm knew a lot more than she should.

                   ‘You   need   to   choose   carefully,’   continued   the   librarian.   ‘One   day   the
                librar y may not be here and you’ll be gone for ever.’
                   ‘How many lives do I have?’
                   ‘ is   isn’t   a   magic   lamp   and   I   am   no   genie.   ere   is   no   set   number.   It

                could be one. It could be a hundred. But you only have  an infinite  number of
                lives  to  choose  from  so  long  as  the  time  in  the  Midnight  Librar y  stays,  well,
                at midnight.  Because  while  it  stays  at  midnight,  your  life  –  your  root  life  –  is
                somewhere       between     life   and   death.   If   time   moves   here,   that   means

                something     ver y   .   .   .’   She   searched   for   a   delicate   word.   ‘.   .   .   decisive   has
                happened.  Something  that  razes  the        Midnight  Librar y  to  the    ground,  and
                takes  us  with  it.  And  so  I  would  err  on  the  side  of  caution.  I  would  tr y  to
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