Reading Quotes

“I don't talk about feelings, but I write a lot about feelings. Reading, that's feminine; writing, that's feminine. It is insane - it's really insane - but it still is in me.”

“I was reading a lot of Jacques Derrida at the time, writing 'Beth.' He actually talked about zombies.”

“I considered myself to be a pretty adept hunter. I'm good at spotting game. I'm good at reading signs when going through the woods.”

“Understand: your mind is weaker than your emotions. But you become aware of this weakness only in moments of adversity--precisely the time whenyou need strength. What best equips you to cope with tthe heat of battle is neither more knowledge nor moreintellect. What makes your mind stronger, and moreable to control your emotions, is internal disciplineand toughness.No one can teach you this skill; you cannot learn it by reading about it. Like any discipline, it can come only through practice, experience, even a little suffering.”

“7 TRUTHS ABOUT MONEY, WORTH, HAPPINESS & CHOICE1. Money does not validate your personal worth. Just because the financial world uses the term "worth" as it applies to business, does not mean it applies to you as a person. People get that mixed up all the time and it's dangerous. You are worthy just for being. Remember that. You are priceless.2. When you like yourself regardless of the size of your bank account, success will follow because you're already successful. Think about it. Success begets success. Deal with that self-loathing garbage that holds you back, like yourself and get to work. 3. Don't try to validate your personal worth with money. If you do, your self-esteem may go up or down with the size of your bank account or the success or failure of your next venture. That's no way to live.4. The fallacy is that the more money you have the happier you are. Some of the saddest people in the world are filthy rich. That said, some of the happiest people are filthy rich. Likewise, some of the saddest people and some of the happiest people are dirt poor. Money is not the deciding factor in your happiness. You are the deciding factor in your own happiness. Take 100% responsibility for your life and watch magic happen.5. Now don't get me wrong. I live in the 21st century too. Money is like air. You don't know how important it is until it runs out. Money to humans is like water to fish. You can't live without it. Money is how we survive and money impacts our happiness, freedom, how and where we live and our ability to make various choices. 6. In the end, a) money will never determine your personal worth because you are worthy just by the fact that you are here, b) money may impact your happiness, but happiness is a choice regardless of the size of your bank account, and c) money is necessary to survive and enhances your circumstance.7) Bringing it all together: given a choice (which you are if you are reading this mini-essay), why not a) choose to believe you are already worthy regardless of your financial situation, b) make happiness a habit, and c) get a mentor to learn how to earn more income so you never run out of air or water?”

“Passion for books is pleasurable.”

“I wanted to crawl in between those black lines of print, the way you crawl through a fence, and go to sleep under that beautiful big green fig-tree.”

“If time heals all wounds, and a book can hold a person's entire life, then you can speed up the process with a pulp time warp.”

“So many people mistakenly take the Bible as a mere reading book! They read it every now and then! Well, that’s a noble thing to do, but a more solemn way is to see the Bible as not just a reading book, but a true practical book for true worshipers, and live it as such!”

“My mother was a first-grade teacher, so I credit her with this lifelong intellectual curiosity I have, and love of reading and learning.”

“I was reading about an age pill that has been developed which they claim will make you live longer. That is not for me.”

“I think camp is a really fascinating thing, and it's hard to define and hard to apply consciously. It's almost something you take from material that's already existed in the world, a reading of the world. But I think it speaks of a long tradition of gay reading of the world, before gays were allowed to be visible.”

“When you are reading about a book, you focus on the main character, of course. When you have something in common with them and connect with them, you remember the lessons they learned, and then you can apply them to your life. So you can live the best life you can.”

“Fiction can show you a different world. It can take you somewhere you've never been. Once you've visited other worlds, like those who ate fairy fruit, you can never be entirely content with the world that you grew up in. Discontent is a good thing: discontented people can modify and improve their worlds, leave them better, leave them different.And while we're on the subject, I'd like to say a few words about escapism. I hear the term bandied about as if it's a bad thing. As if "escapist" fiction is a cheap opiate used by the muddled and the foolish and the deluded, and the only fiction that is worthy, for adults or for children, is mimetic fiction, mirroring the worst of the world the reader finds herself in.If you were trapped in an impossible situation, in an unpleasant place, with people who meant you ill, and someone offered you a temporary escape, why wouldn't you take it? And escapist fiction is just that: fiction that opens a door, shows the sunlight outside, gives you a place to go where you are in control, are with people you want to be with(and books are real places, make no mistake about that); and more importantly, during your escape, books can also give you knowledge about the world and your predicament, give you weapons, give you armour: real things you can take back into your prison. Skills and knowledge and tools you can use to escape for real.As JRR Tolkien reminded us, the only people who inveigh against escape are jailers.”

“Good characters make you feel like you have new friends, don’t they? You have to re-read the books just to visit with them again. Grace Awakening. Book one: Awakening Dreams”

“It may be escapist, but if I have a choice between watching the news or reading a book which gets me to see the world through different eyes, I will always choose the latter!”

“Victor of course never failed to fire a monster joint on these underground missions. And there he would sit reading. He liked how those books made him feel, the books and the weed, his brain humming with knowledge, an odd and lovely sort of expansion feeling these threads of words that stretched across continents and decades, a sort of feeling that he, too, was stretched and flattened, his brain spread like a map across the world.”

“I was reading, absorbed in an assault on K2 by a team of Japanese mountaineers, my lungs constricting in the thin burning air, the deadly sting of wind-lashed ice in my face, when the record -- Le Sacre du Printemps -- caught in the groove with a gnashing squeal as if a stageful of naiads, dryads and spandex satyrs had simultaneously gone lame.”

“He pulled out a couple of mugs while she warmed up the cocoa. He chuckled and she turned to see what was funny and nearly had a heart attack.He was holding one hot pink and white mug while reading it, the other sitting on the counter: Men should be like my curtains, easy to pull and well hung.Her lips parted, she had to have turned cherry red, and she turned away quickly before she burned the cocoa. Now what? Explain that a friend had given them to her when her last boyfriend and she had parted company? Or just ignore the fact that they were drinking out of those cups while she was having hot cocoa with him and pretend she wasn’t embarrassed to the tip of her toes?He brought the mugs over. “Anything else?”“There’s a can of whipped cream in the fridge, if you want some.”“Real cream,” he said, eyeing the can. “Looks good.” He gave it to her, and he lifted the mugs.She shook up the can and pointed it at the right mug, pushed the nozzle, and the cream dripped and fizzled. Not to be thwarted, she shook it again, hoping that it wasn’t defective. And then the whipped cream swirled around with perfect ridges in a twirl on top with a cute little pointy peak. Perfect.Then she turned to the other mug, shook the can again, and pushed the nozzle. It was working great until halfway through her little mountain of whipped cream twirling to perfection, when the nozzle malfunctioned again and spewed whipped cream everywhere.In horror, she stopped what she was doing and stared at the white cream splattered all over Allan’s chest and a few that had dotted his boxer briefs. Her mouth agape, she glanced up at him.His eyes sparkled with mirth and he laughed.“Oh, oh, let me get something to wipe it up,” she said, belatedly, and set the can of whipped cream on the counter.She grabbed some paper towels and wetted them, then rushed back to wipe the mess up. He was still holding onto both hot pink mugs of cocoa. She had every intention of taking one of the mugs and letting him clean himself, but he just moved his arms apart as if to say she made the mess, she could wash it up.She thought she was going to die. Yes, he was totally hot. And yes, she’d fantasized about making love to him—since they were both unattached, and she truly liked him. But in her wildest dreams she would never have imagined making him cocoa in the middle of the night in her duplex while he stood in sexy silk briefs, not baggy, but nice and form fitting, and then she proceeded to splatter him with whipped cream. All over his tanned chest and those black briefs.”

“This is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you're not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.”