1. 97seconds reblogged this from teawords and added:
      Good tea, something nice to eat with and a nice book. Perfect !
    2. notebookexcerpts reblogged this from a0ta0a00
    3. mysilentfireworks reblogged this from booksandmugs and added:
      And once more. :) Look at the beautiful color of the tea!!!
    4. annetdonahue reblogged this from teawords
    5. notallluckwasgood reblogged this from booklover and added:
      thomerama: llacigart: starsmending:
    6. mrazokgo reblogged this from booklover
    7. somuchforgravity reblogged this from cocteautwin
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    9. puellaperdita-archive reblogged this from breathingbooks
    10. multymer reblogged this from booklover
    11. myvintagesky reblogged this from angelica130406 and added:
      book a cup of tea chocolate pie
    12. arreeell reblogged this from booklover
    13. booksandmugs reblogged this from merveucgn and added:
      thomerama: llacigart:
    14. simplyxnicky reblogged this from booklover
    15. madamelieschen reblogged this from booklover and added:
      perfekter abend :)
    16. berryradical reblogged this from booklover and added:
      so dainty & grand.
    17. nklog reblogged this from a0ta0a00
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    20. pittie17minnie reblogged this from booklover
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    22. pierrotzinho reblogged this from booklover and added:
      booklover, thomerama, llacigart: starsmending
    23. dreamyworld reblogged this from booklover
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    26. jsmarchive reblogged this from booklover and added:
      thomerama: llacigart: starsmending:

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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