1. papertownbooks:

    wordpainting:

    youngadultatbooktopia:

    "Reading is probably another way of being in a place."
    - José Saramago

    So go. Be in a place.

    Make time to read

  2. slightlyignorant:

Yes, good, except I’d put the bed the other way so I could SEE the GLORY of my BOOKS.

    slightlyignorant:

    Yes, good, except I’d put the bed the other way so I could SEE the GLORY of my BOOKS.

    (via aquieterstorm)

  3. doubledaybooks:

Bookmarks made from old book spines.

    doubledaybooks:

    Bookmarks made from old book spines.

    (via bookporn)

  4. littledallilasbookshelf:

Passage Verdeau, Paris

    littledallilasbookshelf:

    Passage Verdeau, Paris

    (via wordpainting)

  5. (Source: vanderlustt, via apunkvenus)

  6. "What makes people despair is that they try to find a universal meaning to the whole of life, and then end up by saying it is absurd, illogical, empty of meaning. There is not one big, cosmic meaning for all, there is only the meaning we each give to our life, an individual meaning, an individual plot, like an individual novel, a book for each person. To seek a total unity is wrong. To give as much meaning to one’s life as possible seems right to me."
    Anais Nin (via softwhisper)
  7. (Source: semilost, via bookporn)

  8. (Source: darkhaired, via womenreading)

  9. tobeshelved:

    Not a big drinker? That’s okay. You’ll still love this heartwarming ad from Bell’s UK about the power of literacy. And family. And… just watch it.

    Beautiful.
  10. book-pause:

Eliot’s Books (Toronto, Canada) Gustavo Thomas

    book-pause:

    Eliot’s Books (Toronto, Canada)
    Gustavo Thomas

    (via booklover)

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)



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ifyougiveachildabook.tumblr.com

Contributor: womenreading.tumblr.com


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