Recycled post about Books

*All the pictures are from Tumblr.... I don't know how to credit whom.
There's just something wonderful about a good book. Especially an old friend of a book. You may have read it before, but it still thrills the heartstrings, and plays them for a sucker. I know I'm a sucker for my favorite series and authors. If a new book comes out in a series I love, there might be slight bouncing around and squealing in excitement. Though I try to keep it to a minimum, as I normally am in a library (which happens to be my favorite place in the world) when I discover this wonderful happening. Normally ends up with me smiling too much. But what are you going to do?
I sit here in my room, surrounded by some of my best friends, and I look at them and I remember the times I've had with them. The times many times some part of me has fallen asleep because I've been too engrossed in the tale to move. The times I've wanted to remember a certain page, but I didn't have a bookmark so I tried really hard to memorize the page number. The times when I'm just trying to read, but people keep asking me about what I'm reading so I get all pissy and avoid the question as best I can. The long car rides, where I drowned out everything except for my mother's voice.

The times I've been in an enchanted castle wondering around trying to find the library. The time I was chatting with the Cheshire. The time I was a spy. The time I visited the Louvre. The time I flew on a dragon's back. The time I met John and Jack and Charles and Tumnus And Jules. The time I went to face Smaug. The time I caught the snitch. The time I ran on rooftops and talked to gods without fear. The time I was at Camp Half-blood. The time I visited the summer court of the fae and came out years later. The time I rode black beauty. The time I visited a dinotopia, and got lost in a different world. The time I killed myself for mine love was dead. The time I sledded with Calvin, and learned something with Frazz and haunted the night with Bruce and Logan.

The time I lived on Mango street, and the time where all I wanted was to be the catcher in the rye, and the time Lizzy was dancing with Darcy, and the time Alice fell down the hole, and the horse and his boy made it safe and sound and Sakura lost her memories, and the time Georgie Porgie kissed the girls and made the cry, the time Gwain became the defender of ladies everywhere, and his squire turned out to be the prince of the summer council, and Percy finally found out who his father was, and Gen ends up king, Jacen ends up Darth Cademus, the Scarlett Pimpernell ended up being Sir Percy Blakeney, rain finally comes to Bamarre, Atalanta refuses to be princess, Charles Wallace is a genius who just needs time, and there is a great ring of endless lights.

There's something wonderful about a book. It's a portal, if you will, to another world, another life, another time. For a bit, we get to experience something that can be completely different from what we know. We laugh, we cry, we feel. It makes us think, it makes us dream, it makes us smile. Even if you aren't a big reader, the thrill of a book is expressed in millions of other ways, like songs, movies, audio books. But for me, there is nothing better than a bunch of pages with a bunch of little black squiggles. I love pictures and and picture books and the like, but if there's no pictures in my book, that's just fine with me. (Excluding my comics and comic books. There better be pictures, or I will not be happy.) It's like the perfect recipe for those prone to flights of fancy. Or those who have dreamed of what it would be like to fly. Both of which I have been guilty of.

You’re so hunky, you must be hiding a rapidly aging portrait somewhere in your attic.
Girl, you’re so flawless, even James Wood couldn’t find anything to criticize.

Do you know how I can contact Sherlock Holmes? Because I need to solve the mystery of how to win your heart.

We could make such a beautiful library together.

I can recall a an allusion to Shakespeare in reference to how beautiful you are.

Not even Veritaserum could make me express how much I’m truly attracted to you.

My love for you burns like a dying phoenix"You look so much like a princess, I put poison in that apple you're eating. Let's hope my antidote-chapstick does the trick."
It was a dark and stormy night.