cinderellainrubbershoes:

We lose ourselves in books and find ourselves there, too.

cinderellainrubbershoes:

We lose ourselves in books and find ourselves there, too.

1 year ago with 1,380 notes    via / root



"We don’t want to feel less when we have finished a book; we want to feel that new possibilities of being have been opened to us. We don’t want to close a book with a sense that life is totally unfair and that there is no light in the darkness; we want to feel that we have been given illumination."
-  Madeleine L’Engle, Walking on Water (via larien-vardamir-arcamonel)
1 year ago with 536 notes    via / root



"Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable."
-  Mary Oliver (via amandaonwriting)
1 year ago with 195 notes    via / root



lifeofliterature:

[65] (by sourpatch.)
1 year ago with 898 notes    via / root
-books -lit 



"Books: a beautifully browsable invention that needs no electricity and exists in a readable form no matter what happens."
-  Nicholson Baker (via amandaonwriting)
1 year ago with 634 notes    via / root



1 year ago with 92 notes    via / root



"I doubt if I shall ever have time to read the book again — there are too many new ones coming out all the time which I want to read. Yet an old book has something for me which no new book can ever have — for at every reading the memories and atmosphere of other readings come back and I am reading old years as well as an old book."
-  L.M. Montgomery, The Selected Journals, Vol. 3: 1921-1929 (via excessivebookshelf)
1 year ago with 46 notes    via / root



aseaofquotes:

Ally Condie, Matched

aseaofquotes:

Ally Condie, Matched

1 year ago with 3,376 notes    via / root



"I want to go on, to go beyond; I cannot;
the moment scatters itself in many things,
I have slept the dreams of the stone that never dreams
and deep among the dreams of years like stones
have heard the singing of my imprisoned blood,
with the premonition of light the sea sang,
and one by one the barriers give way,
all of the gates have fallen to decay,
the sun has forced an entrance through my forehead,
has opened my eyelids of its swaddling clothes,
has rooted me out of my self, and separated
me from my animal sleep centuries of stone
and the magic of reflections resurrects
willow of crystal, a poplar of water,
a pillar of fountain by the wind drawn over,
tree that is firmly rooted and that dances,
turning course of a river that goes curving,
advances and retreats, goes roundabout,
arriving forever:"
-  Octavio Paz, from “Sun stone”, translated by Eliot Weinberger (via the-final-sentence)
1 year ago with 250 notes    via / root



teachingliteracy:

r0se-coloured
1 year ago with 19,908 notes    via / root



ALH
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