Second-hand books are wild books, homeless books; they have come together in vast flocks of variegated feather, and have a charm which the domesticated volumes of the library lack. Besides, in this ra...
She had to find her own story, and she could make it whatever shape she thought best.
She liked the way the words sounded. She imagined them floating above her in a comic-strip bubble
She read books as one would breathe air, to fill up and live.
She was battered and beaten up, and not smiling this time. Liesel could see it on her face. Blood leaked from her nose and licked at her lips. Her eyes had blackened. Cuts had opened up and a series o...
She was still clutching the book.She was holding desperately on to the words who had saved her life.
She would go off in the morning with the punt full of books, and spend long glorious days away in the forest lying on the green springy carpet of whortleberries, reading. She would most diligently wor...
Should' is my all time least favorite
Silence made space for other people's words, which was important for those who needed to be listened to.
Sink every impulse like a bolt. Secure
So Matilda’s strong young mind continued to grow, nurtured by the voices of all those authors who had sent their books out into the world like ships on the sea. These books gave Matilda a hopeful and...
So many words get lost. They leave the mouth and lose their courage, wandering aimlessly until they are swept into the gutter like dead leaves.
Some people make tunes, but it is lines that run like moving messages through my head. Whatever else I am saying and doing often has no bearing on this inner, verbal life.
Some words are wind, ser. Some are treason.
Sometimes we don't need words. Rather, it's words that need us.
Sometimes words were like glass that broke in her mouth.
Somewhere embedded in every ordinary book are the five or six words for which really all the rest will be written.
TELL THE WORLD WHAT YOU INTEND TO DO, BUT FIRST SHOW IT.This is the equivalent of saying deeds, and not words, are what count most.
Talk, talk, talk: the utter and heartbreaking stupidity of words.
That night two lovers whispering under the lead canopy of the church were killed by their own passion. Their effusion of words, unable to escape through the Saturnian discipline of lead, so filled the...
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