“After all, books we read now will define us later.”
—Cirilo F. Bautista, “The Romance of Books” (via roemina)
December 2010
100 posts
I love how books take you to other places. I’ve travelled afar reading different stories and entering the minds of some of the most intellectual people known in this day and age. It sounds corny but really.
“It’s lovely to know that the world can’t interfere with the inside of your head.”
—Frank McCourt (Angela’s Ashes)
I got a gift voucher to a bookstore for Christmas from my aunt (who insists it’s a ‘crappy’ present, but I think it’s one of the best gifts I got!). I went searching for books yesterday and ended up buying Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf. I also found a copy of Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer, which I have been searching for for a long time, but they only had it in the orange ‘Penguin Classics’ range; I wanted the pretty covers. Thus, in comes online book shopping. As much as I dislike things like eReaders and Kindles, being able to buy books online to be delivered to you is an advancement I will gladly accept.
Whenever I get to the last 100-or-so pages of a book, I’m torn between devouring it in an hour and finishing the story, or savoring it and making it last for another day.
“When they ask to see your gods
your book of prayers
show them lines
drawn delicately with veins
on the underside of a bird’s wing
tell them you believe
in giant sycamores mottled
and stark against a winter sky
and in nights so frozen
stars crack open spilling
streams of molten ice to earth
and tell them how you drink
a holy wine of honeysuckle
on a warm spring day
and of the softness
of your mother who never taught you
death was life’s reward
but who believed in the earth
and the sun
and a million, million light years
of being” — J.L. Stanley, Catechism for a Witch’s Child (via sarahjune)
your book of prayers
show them lines
drawn delicately with veins
on the underside of a bird’s wing
tell them you believe
in giant sycamores mottled
and stark against a winter sky
and in nights so frozen
stars crack open spilling
streams of molten ice to earth
and tell them how you drink
a holy wine of honeysuckle
on a warm spring day
and of the softness
of your mother who never taught you
death was life’s reward
but who believed in the earth
and the sun
and a million, million light years
of being” — J.L. Stanley, Catechism for a Witch’s Child (via sarahjune)
“It [the book] was spinning a magic spell around her heart, sticky as a spider’s web and enchantingly beautiful..”
— Cornelia Funke (Inkheart)
