I have likened writing a novel to going on a journey, with some notion of the destination I will arrive at, but not the whole picture - which emerges gradually as a series of revelations, as the journey goes along.
— Rose Tremain  (via amandaonwriting)
 
Have you ever met your bookshop soulmate? (Image by Furkan Ayhan)
The role of a writer is not to say what we can all say, but what we are unable to say.
— Anaïs Nin (via wordpainting)
 aussie-sci-fi-hub:

February Book Photo Challenge Day 3: Where I Read.  Other than everywhere and anywhere, I read here, in my library.

aussie-sci-fi-hub:

February Book Photo Challenge Day 3: Where I Read.
Other than everywhere and anywhere, I read here, in my library.

Reading time is precious. Don’t waste it. Reading bad books, or books that are wrong for a certain time in your life, can dangerously turn you off the activity altogether.
How Not to Read by Lionel Shriver (via treesofreverie)

(Source: treesofreverie)

 la-neve:

the books of 2013 (by deepsleepdarling)

la-neve:

the books of 2013 (by deepsleepdarling)

The camera is an instrument that teaches people how to see without a camera.

cassandrascastle:

April Book Photo Challenge
Day 5 - Favourite Cover
The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

 (via Untitled | Flickr - Photo Sharing!)
The soul becomes dyed with the color of its thoughts.
— Marcus Aurelius (via philosophy-quotes)
 risarodil:

Yep.

risarodil:

Yep.

 sinkling:

Week three: books by laura zalenga on Flickr.

Such happiness, to be alone. To see the hot late-afternoon light on the sidewalk outside, the branches of a tree just out in leaf, throwing their skimpy shadows. To hear from the back of the shop the sounds of the ball game that the man who had served me was listening to on the radio. I did not think of the story I would make about Alfrida— not of that in particular— but of the work I wanted to do, which seemed more like grabbing something out of the air than constructing stories. The cries of the crowd came to me like big heartbeats, full of sorrows. Lovely formal-sounding waves, with their distant, almost inhuman assent and lamentation.

This was what I wanted, this was what I thought I had to pay attention to, this was how I wanted my life to be.

— Alice Munro, “Family Furnishings” from Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage (via malletmouth)
 
 
Franz Kafka (right) with, from right, his secretary Julie Kaiser, his sister Ottla, their cousin Irma, and the maid Mařenka, near Zürau, Bohemia, 1917

Franz Kafka (right) with, from right, his secretary Julie Kaiser, his sister Ottla, their cousin Irma, and the maid Mařenka, near Zürau, Bohemia, 1917

(Source: litafficionado)