Tag: books

malikovniklas:

travel to a world
          of dark bargains struck by moonlight,
                      of haunted towns and hungry woods,
                                 of talking beasts and gingerbread golems,
                                              where a young mermaid’s voice can summon deadly storms
          and where a river might do a lovestruck boy’s bidding but only for a terrible price.

@sixofcrowsnet (edit + official art)

survivablyso:

uncle-whisky:

bibliophelia:

I firmly believe that there’s a “right” time to read a certain book. It’s okay if you’re interested in a book and it sits on your shelf for years. Maybe it didn’t call out to you when you wanted something to read because it was waiting for the right time to mean the most to you. Not saying this is always the case, but this has happened enough to recognize the magic.

I believe this is true in reverse, too. Some books you read when you’re younger, and they’re fantastic. They give you that escape you’re looking for, they make you question or wonder things you took for granted, maybe they even inspire you to write, or make any other kind of art, all your own.

And then you grow up and try re-reading it again, and realize that that book reads like hot garbage to you now.

That’s okay. You read it when you were supposed to. It’s done it’s job already, even if it’s no longer doing that job now.

this is why I have 46 unread books on my shelf.

the stars are not in position

glumshoe:

I think I’m always chasing that particular high you only get from certain rare stories – the ones that resonate with you on a strange personal level, like an implacable aroma that reminds you of something that was once very dear to you but has somehow been forgotten. Those stories that rewire your brain just a little, just for a while. Not every great story has this effect – I have enjoyed many excellent books and movies that did not change me.

It’s just that now and then, if you’re very lucky, you’ll come across a story that feels like home, or a like limb you didn’t even know you had or how you got by all these years without using it. These stories haunt you and become part of your personal canon.