innerbookworm

[innerbookworm]

What books have you done this to?

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[innerbookworm]

“In films, we are voyeurs, but in novels, we have the experience of being someone else: knowing another person’s soul from the inside. No other art form does that. And this is why sometimes, when we put down a book, we find ourselves slightly altered as human beings. Novels change us from within.”

— Donna Tartt, in this 2013 interview by Laurie Grassi for Chatelaine (via boykeats)

[innerbookworm]

“I waited too long to read the sequel, and now I can’t even remember the characters.”

 A novel by me

[innerbookworm]

But do they know how to craft fiction? Do they know how to spin                                                                               lies? His eyes swear forever,  flatter with vows of only me. But are they empty                                                                    promises? I stare into his eyes, as into a crystal ball, but I cannot find forever,                                                                              only movies of yesterday, a sketchbook of today, dreams of a shared                                                                    tomorrow. His eyes whisper secrets. But are they truths or fairy tales? I wonder if even he                                                                          knows.

Eden Streit

Tricks

(via housechor)

[innerbookworm]

Tengo suddenly recalled the fact that people lose fifty million skin cells every day. The cells get scraped off, turn into invisible dust, and disappear into the air. Maybe we are nothing but skin cells as far as the world is concerned. If so, there’s nothing mysterious about somebody suddenly disappearing one day.

Haruki Murakami, 1Q84 (via larmoyante)

[innerbookworm]

Books are like people: fascinating, inspiring, thought-provoking, some laugh, some meditate, others ache with old age, but still have wisdom: some are disease-ridden, some deceitful; but others are a delight to behold, and many travel to foreign lands; some cry, some teach, others are lots of fun, they are excellent companions and all have individuality - Books are friends. What person has too many friends?

Gladys Hunt (via observando)

[innerbookworm]

Some books you read. Some books you enjoy. But some books just swallow you up, heart and soul.

Joanne Harris (via wordsnquotes)

[innerbookworm]

A well-chosen book saves you from everything, including yourself.

F. Scott Fitzgerald (via mysharona1987)

[innerbookworm]

I know what it feels like, and it sucks, it really does, when you are up in the middle of the night thinking about the things that you’ve suddenly become aware of. The things you’re missing out on right now, and all the people who are not close to you anymore, and all of the good times that will never happen again, and all the people who have meant the world to you who have forgotten about you forever, and you get this awful feeling that’s kind of like a mix between loneliness and nostalgia.

Abraham M. Alghanem, Summer and Autumn (via tanya-nicole)

[innerbookworm]

It’s not uncommon, using fantasy to cope with the brutal truth.

Ransom Riggs, Miss Peregrines Home for Peculiar Children (via wordsnquotes)

[innerbookworm]

Fiction gives us a second chance that life denies us.

Paul Theroux (via abookblog)

[innerbookworm]

I felt like crying but nothing came out. It was just a sort of sad sickness, sick sad, when you can’t feel any worse. I think you know it. I think everybody knows it now and then.

Charles Bukowski, Tales of Ordinary Madness   (via m-i-l-a)

[innerbookworm]

I hoard books. They are people who do not leave.

Anne Sexton, from A Self-Portrait in Letters (via themergirlandthesea)

[innerbookworm]

If you’re happy in a dream…does that count? The happiness–does it count?

From The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy (via bodyfluids)

[innerbookworm]

It’s hard to let go. Even when what you’re holding onto is full of thorns, it’s hard to let go. Maybe especially then.

Stephen King, Joyland (via larmoyante)

[innerbookworm]

I don’t know why people expect art to make sense. They accept the fact that life doesn’t make sense.

David Lynch (via wordsnquotes)

[innerbookworm]

You can’t keep the birds of sadness from flying over your head, but you can keep them from nesting in your hair.

Sharon Creech, Walk Two Moons (via larmoyante)