A book that means nothing to one may be rich in meaning for another.

Every writer writes for his own peculiar readers, just as every individual has his own peculiar friends." "Or enemies," said Brian.
"Or enemies," agreed Auntie Sue.
Brian went to the window, and stood for some time, looking out into the night.

Then turning, with a nervous gesture, he paced uneasily up and down the room; while Auntie Sue watched him in silence with an expression of loving concern on her dear old face.
At last, she spoke: "Why, Brian, what is the matter?
What have I said?
I did not mean to upset you like this.

Come, sit down here, and tell me about it.

What is it troubles you so ?" With a short laugh, Brian came and stood before her.