Posts tagged lit

You don't own your Kindle books, Amazon reminds customer - NBC News

papertownbooks:

Nothing will ever be as good as a physical copy of a book. You own it, you have it in your possession, it takes no batteries, and it never goes ‘out of business’.

Also, most all of our common book titles are less expensive than their digital copies. Check out our website.

There is nothing like a physical copy of a book, it’s yours forever, it takes no batteries, and it will never “go out of business” or be taken away from you unwillingly by some major blood sucking corporation.

To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it’s about, but the music the words make.
Truman Capote; Truman Capote: Conversations
papertownbooks:

We have autographed books, First Editions, and more at our website.

papertownbooks:

We have autographed books, First Editions, and more at our website.

A story was a form of telepathy. By means of inking symbols onto a page, she was able to send thoughts and feelings from her mind to her reader’s. It was a magical process, so commonplace that no one stopped to wonder at it.
Ian McEwan; Atonement
Designated Dreamers

Designated Dreamers

Gertrude Stein at home writing.

Gertrude Stein at home writing.

Odd Type Writers | A Piece of Monologue: Literature, Philosophy, Criticism

Celia Blue Johnson shares research she has conducted for her new book, Odd Type WritersAs a young writer Virginia Woolf preferred to stand while she wrote. Her desk was three and a half feet tall. Quentin Bell, Woolf’s nephew, concluded that the habit was spurred by sibling rivalry. Woolf’s sister Vanessa was an artist who painted at an easel. Bell noted, “This led Virginia to feel that her own pursuit might appear less arduous than that of her sister unless she set matters on a footing of equality.” Eventually Woolf transitioned from standing to sitting. 

In his late twenties, James Joyce wore a white coat while he worked. He’d put it on, climb into bed, and compose his work with a blue pencil. His sister Eileen noted that the coat “gave a kind of white light” that helped him see the page. Joyce battled eye diseases throughout his life. As his sight worsened, the resourceful author magnified his entire creative process, writing intricate sentences with colored crayons on large pieces of cardboard. 

By working so hard at becoming wise and reasonable and well-informed, you have made our little planet, our precious little moist, blue-green ball, a saner place than it was before you got here.
Kurt Vonnegut (via musing-bibliophage)



J.R.R. Tolkien in his study with his maps and books.

J.R.R. Tolkien in his study with his maps and books.

Reading was my escape and my comfort, my consolation, my stimulant of choice: reading for the pure pleasure of it, for the beautiful stillness that surrounds you when you hear an author’s words reverberating in your head.
Paul Auster; The Brooklyn Follies
“If I knew that today would be the last time I’d see you, I would hug you tight and pray the Lord be the keeper of your soul. If I knew that this would be the last time you pass through this door, I’d embrace you, kiss you, and call you back for one more. If I knew that this would be the last time I would hear your voice, I’d take hold of each word to be able to hear it over and over again. If I knew this is the last time I see you, I’d tell you I love you, and would not just assume foolishly you know it already.”—Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez
Rest In Peace (March 6, 1927—April 17, 2014)

“If I knew that today would be the last time I’d see you, I would hug you tight and pray the Lord be the keeper of your soul. If I knew that this would be the last time you pass through this door, I’d embrace you, kiss you, and call you back for one more. If I knew that this would be the last time I would hear your voice, I’d take hold of each word to be able to hear it over and over again. If I knew this is the last time I see you, I’d tell you I love you, and would not just assume foolishly you know it already.”—Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez

Rest In Peace (March 6, 1927—April 17, 2014)

A writer is a world trapped in a person.

Victor Hugo (via nestingcas)

[Sometimes a writer is many worlds trapped in a person]

theparisreview:

“Jump off the cliff and build your wings on the way down.” The secret of life and love, according to Ray Bradbury. (via)

If a story is in you, it has to come out.
William Faulkner