1. forgottenbookmarks: Eight messages about this today, so I’ll make a post. Yup, that is my book. You can buy it on the site: http://www.forgottenbookmarks.com/p/forgotten-bookmarks-booksellers.html Or Amazon, or Barnes and Noble, or wherever. I hope you like it, it’s filled with the same found items from the site, and features more than 90 new bookmarks.  Congratulations!

    forgottenbookmarks:

    Eight messages about this today, so I’ll make a post.

    Yup, that is my book. You can buy it on the site:

    http://www.forgottenbookmarks.com/p/forgotten-bookmarks-booksellers.html

    Or Amazon, or Barnes and Noble, or wherever. I hope you like it, it’s filled with the same found items from the site, and features more than 90 new bookmarks.

     Congratulations!

    • 3 months ago
    • 33 notes
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      I want this book …
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    7. breathingbooks reblogged this from forgottenbookmarks and added:
      Congratulations!
    8. forgottenbookmarks posted this

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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