Lost In A Book

The only thing better than a new book is an old one

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Houses + Tea

[berghahnbooks]

Where is human nature so weak as in the bookstore?

Henry Ward Beecher (via berghahnbooks)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

and nothing was burning, nothing but I,

Denise Levertov, from Poems: 1960 - 1967; “Caedmon,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

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I want this noise within me to die down.

Alice Notley, from Certain Magical Acts; “Two of Swords,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

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I desire, Occasionally, some backtalk From the mute sky,

Sylvia Plath, from Collected Poems; “Black Rook in Rainy Weather,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[theclassicsreader]

The trees are in their autumn beauty, The woodland paths are dry, Under the October twilight the water Mirrors a still sky;

W.B. Yeats, from “The Wild Swans at Coole” (via theclassicsreader)

[yourcoffeeguru]

[theclassicsreader]

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.

George Eliot (via theclassicsreader)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Consume me, carry me to the furthest limit.

Virginia Woolf, from “The Waves,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[theclassicsreader]

…everything has a meaning, or nothing has.

Roland Barthes, Image-Music-Text (via theclassicsreader)

[theclassicsreader]

Looking at his face, it sometimes came to her that all women had been cursed from the cradle; all, in one fashion or another, being given the same cruel destiny, born to suffer the weight of men.

James Baldwin, Go Tell it on the Mountain (via theclassicsreader)

To have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever.

[neverlandskys-blog]

J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (via books-n-quotes)

[theliteraryjournals]

Life is boring, except for flowers, sunshine, your perfect legs. A glass of cold water when you are really thirsty. The way bodies fit together. Fresh and young and sweet. Coffee in the morning. These are just moments. I struggle with the in-betweens. I just want to never stop loving like there is nothing else to do, because what else is there to do?

Pablo Neruda, Twenty Love Poems and Song of Despair (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

[cloverpe]

[torpublishinggroup]

The Magician’s Library by Erin McGuire

[theclassicsreader]

Tis moonlight, summer moonlight, All soft and still and fair; The solemn hour of midnight Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere,

Emily Brontë, from “Moonlight, Summer Moonlight” (via theclassicsreader)

[chrisriddellblog]

Neil Gaiman on Libraries and Librarians.