The other day at Anthropologie I was with a friend in the midst of some delightful books when all of a sudden there was a gasp, and there was one of the best stories of all time bound in the cutest cover. Faced with holding in our hands the equivalent preciousness of one thousand sleeping bunnies, we barely knew what to do with ourselves and nearly burst into tears.
Admirable self-restraint limited me to a purchase of only one copy. There was another overcoming reach-for-the-tissues fit of joy when I realized I had an appropriately precious bookmark to use whilst reading. The collective adorableness of this whole episode was enough to make one explode into a well-arranged variety of garden flowers.
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