1. silhouetteface:

Bookshop around the corner by Lemon_T on Flickr.
    1. lapetitemadelyne reblogged this from pwrpunch and added:
      Spanish booksellers are the bane of my existence. So many pretty books and I can’t read a single one of them.
    2. capricious-stock reblogged this from booklover
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    11. foggydaysandfoggythoughts reblogged this from books-and-coffee-lover and added:
      This is in Madrid!! I recognized it right away, it’s on Calle del Arenal, just past Puerta del Sol towards the Palace....
    12. holyshnikees reblogged this from bookporn
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    28. mariasvarela reblogged this from bookporn and added:
      In Madrid, close to Opera.
    29. backpackinggeek reblogged this from bookporn

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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