1. "Someone needs to tell those tales. When the battles are fought and won and lost, when the pirates find their treasures and the dragons eat their foes for breakfast with a nice cup of Lapsang souchong, someone needs to tell their bits of overlapping narrative. There’s magic in that. It’s in the listener, and for each and every ear it will be different, and it will affect them in ways they can never predict. From the mundane to the profound. You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone’s soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows what they might do because of it, because of your words. That is your role, your gift."
    The Night Circus - Erin Morgenstern (via malapropsbookstore)

    (Source: themindofafictionbooklover, via malapropsbookstore)

  2. shallowsprings:

⊱ crystals ⊹ fantasy ⊹ nature ⊰
  3. "Print will never die. There’s no substitute for the feel of an actual book. I adore physically turning the pages, and being able to underline passages and not worrying about dropping them in the bath or running out of power. I also find print books objects of beauty."

    J.K Rowling. (via mysharona1987)

    She explained exactly how I feel,about physical books

    (via thegreatgherkin87)

    (via ilovereadingandwriting)

  4. simonbooks:

Our question precisely!


    Our question precisely!

    (Source: bhampublib, via malapropsbookstore)

library by Kristiana Zelca
  6. Always a reblog!

    Always a reblog!

    (Source: october-glory, via fabric-of-a-gentleman)

  7. homemade-appalachian-whiskey:

If this was a little more disorganized I’d say it was the work desk of Sherlock Holmes.


    If this was a little more disorganized I’d say it was the work desk of Sherlock Holmes.

    (via fabric-of-a-gentleman)


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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