1. bluepueblo:

Shakespeare and Company Bookstore, Paris
photo via peggy

    bluepueblo:

    Shakespeare and Company Bookstore, Paris

    photo via peggy

    (via aquieterstorm)

  2. ebookfriendly:

This Louis XIV etagere serves as a bookshelf carousel / via Linda in Va. http://ebks.to/1q7fBxB

    ebookfriendly:

    This Louis XIV etagere serves as a bookshelf carousel / via Linda in Va. http://ebks.to/1q7fBxB

    (via booklover)

  3. slightlyignorant:

I’d read in this nook.

    slightlyignorant:

    I’d read in this nook.

    (Source: lonny.com, via wordpainting)

  4. (Source: wasbella102, via aquieterstorm)

  5. Actress Ingrid Bergman chatting w. author Ernest Hemingway about his interest in having her play the role of Maria in the filming of his new novel “For Whom The Bell Tolls”, in Jack’s Restaurant.

    (Source: tracylord, via wordpainting)

  6. Currently reading …

    Currently reading …

  7. anostalgicnerd:

    In an old house in Paris that was covered in vines…

    (via prettybooks)

  8. clavicle-moundshroud:

Old books

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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