1. Remembering Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Shakespeare & Company
Paris, France

    Remembering Gabriel Garcia Marquez
    Shakespeare & Company
    Paris, France

  2. stilltheaddict:

Original manuscript page from Arthur Conan Doyle’s “Hound of the Baskervilles” from the fourteenth chapter (1901).

    stilltheaddict:

    Original manuscript page from Arthur Conan Doyle’s “Hound of the Baskervilles” from the fourteenth chapter (1901).

    (via bookporn)

  3. Greyfield Inn
Cumberland Island
Photograph by Jamie Beck
Ann Street Studio

(Click photo to see full story …)

    Greyfield Inn
    Cumberland Island
    Photograph by Jamie Beck
    Ann Street Studio

    (Click photo to see full story …)

  4. englishsnow:

    { old books ♥  }

     1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

    (via bookporn)

  5. (Source: escuyer, via aquieterstorm)

  6. "Some books you read. Some books you enjoy. But some books just swallow you up, heart and soul."
    Joanne Harris (via a-thousand-words)

    (via joannechocolat)

  7. wordpainting:

focus-damnit:

(via Somewhere I would like to live)

Cozy reading spot

About

Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing. (Harper Lee)

I nearly always write, just as I nearly always breathe.
(John Steinbeck)

When I don’t write, I feel my world shrinking. I feel I am in a prison. I feel I lose my fire and my color. It should be a necessity, as the sea needs to heave, and I call it breathing.
(Anaïs Nin)

With my eyes closed, I would touch a familiar book and draw its fragrance deep inside me. This was enough to make me happy.
(Haruki Murakami)

I stepped into the bookshop and breathed in that perfume of paper and magic that strangely no one had ever thought of bottling.
(Carlos Ruiz Zafón)

He loved a book because it was a book; he loved its odor, its form, its title. What he loved in a manuscript was its old illegible date, the bizarre and strange Gothic characters, the heavy gilding which loaded its drawings. It was its pages covered with dust — dust of which he breathed the sweet and tender perfume with delight.
(Gustave Flaubert)

I whispered the thrilling words to myself, then lifted the book to my nose and breathed the ink from its pages. The scent of possibilities.
(Kate Morton)

This is how you read a novel: you inhale the experience. So start breathing.
(Azar Nafisi)



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Contributor: womenreading.tumblr.com


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