Criminal how good reading suddenly feels the moment you have six mandatory tasks, a hundred chores, seven deadly side quests, an assignment and a face to wash all waiting for you.
Seeing someone's handwriting for the first time is like seeing part of their soul. And subtly deciphering everything that is wrong with them letter by letter.
Amazing how you can just memorise a passage in a book and keep it with you, hold it tight, repeat it back whenever, to whoever, see if anyone knows your game. No one can take that from you.
Yo a veces sí revisaba likes de gente que me significaba, la vdd, más que para "espiarles", era como un ejercicio de mirar un ratito el mundo con sus ojos, conmoverme con sus conmociones, reírme de las tarugadas que los habían hecho reírse.
Ursula K. Le Guin: «Leemos libros para descubrir quiénes somos. Lo que otras personas, reales o imaginarias, hacen y piensan y sienten […] es una guía esencial para nuestra comprensión de lo que somos y podemos llegar a ser.»
Every moment is simply so much that I think I shall also obsess over the minute details of the everyday - then imbue them with such meaning, such memories, that they make my head spin.
My ultimate sick fantasy? Being read to before bed. A single goodnight kiss. A soft, sound sleep, lying supine on silken pillows, kissed, contented, slumberous.
There’s this special one-sided bond you form with your favourite writers because their words are so pretty, the stories they weave are so precious, they’ve kept you company so many times. It doesn’t matter that it’s unrequited, you have my whole heart.