To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all. 

(~Oscar Wilde)

Reading one book is like eating one potato chip. 

(~Diane Duane)

Some books should be tasted, some devoured, but only a few should be chewed and digested thoroughly. 

(~Cornelia Funke)

It was one of those humid days when the atmosphere gets confused. Sitting on the porch, you could feel it: the air wishing it was water. 

(~Jeffrey Eugenides)

Why did you do all this for me?' he asked. 'I don't deserve it. I've never done anything for you.' 'You have been my friend,' replied Charlotte. 'That in itself is a tremendous thing. 
(~E.B. White, Charlotte's Web)

There is no mistaking a real book when one meets it. It is like falling in love. 

(~Christopher Morley)

Guerrillas of Grace

How shall I pray?

Are tears prayers, Lord?

Are screams prayers,

or groans

or sighs

or curses?

Can trembling hands be lifted to you,

or clenched fists

or the cold sweat that trickles down my back

or the cramps that knot my stomach?

Will you accept my prayers, Lord,

my real prayers,

rooted in the muck and mud and rock of my life,

and not just the pretty, cut-flower, gracefully arranged

bouquet of words?

Will you accept me, Lord,

as I really am,

messed up mixture of glory and grime?

(~Ted Loder)

Bed in Summer

In winter I get up at night  
And dress by yellow candle-light.  
In summer, quite the other way,  
I have to go to bed by day.  

I have to go to bed and see  
The birds still hopping on the tree,  
Or hear the grown-up people’s feet  
Still going past me in the street.  

And does it not seem hard to you,  
When all the sky is clear and blue,  
And I should like so much to play,  
To have to go to bed by day?
(~Robert Louis Stevenson)

We need a letter that's like i & u together for when we're doing stuff like this, he said & I hugged him & said a lot of people want a letter like that.
(~Brian Andreas, Story People)

“Living in a bookshop is like living in a warehouse of explosives. Those shelves are ranked with the most furious combustibles in the world—the brains of men. I can spend a rainy afternoon reading, and my mind works itself up to such a passion and anxiety over mortal problems as almost unmans me. It is terribly nerve-racking. Surround a man with Carlyle, Emerson, Thoreau, Chesterton, Shaw, Nietzsche, and George Ade—would you wonder at his getting excited? What would happen to a cat if she had to live in a room tapestried with catnip? She would go crazy!”

   “Truly, I had never thought of that phase of bookselling,” said the young man. “How is it, though, that libraries are shrines of such austere calm? If books are as provocative as you suggest, one would expect every librarian to utter the shrill screams of a hierophant, to clash ecstatic castanets in his silent alcoves!”     

   “Ah, my boy, you forget the card index! Librarians invented that soothing device for the febrifuge of their souls, just as I fall back upon the rites of the kitchen. Librarians would all go mad, those capable of concentrated thought, if they did not have the cool and healing card index as medicament!"

(~Christopher Morley, The Haunted Bookshop)

I Love the Hour Just Before

 a party. Everybody

at home getting
ready. Pulling
on boots, fixing
their hair, planning
what to say if
she's there, picking
a pluckier lipstick,
rehearsing a joke
with a stickpin
in it, doing
the last minute
fumbling one does
before leaving for
the night like
tying up the dog or
turning on the yard
light. I like to think
of them driving,
finding their way
in the dark, taking
this left, that right,
while I light candles,
start the music softly
seething. Everything
waiting. Even
the wine barely
breathing.
(~Todd Boss)

Someday, I hope you
have a child fall asleep
on your chest & in that
moment, with the soft
whisper of their breath
against your skin, I hope
you’ll find the place
you’ve been looking for,
without any effort at all,
right there in your chest
where your child sleeps.
(~Brian Andreas, Story People)

I sometimes wake in the early morning
& listen to the soft breathing
of my children & I think to myself,
this is one thing I will never regret
& I carry that quiet with me all day long.
(~Brian Andreas, Story People)

When I first met him,
I knew in a moment
I would have to spend
the next few days
re-arranging my mind
so there’d be room
for him to stay.
(~Brian Andreas, Story People)

We sat at the edge of the world
& you laughed & asked a thousand
questions
& later, at dusk, I carried you sleeping
in my arms & you woke for a moment
& smiled & said Today was my favorite
& I said Shhh, but I had to agree.
(~Brian Andreas, Story People)

I’m not that good at being a tourist because I’m always looking at the way the light shines in your hair or the way your dress opens to the wind & my favorite places in the world are places filled with you.
(~Brian Andreas, Story People)

he taught me to run high on my toes. I will always remember his words: run proud & remember you are alive.
(~Brian Andreas, Story People)

Today, for some reason, I see how short our lives actually are & how often I forget to look in your eyes & stop time entirely & say, You have made this life for me.
(~Brian Andreas, Story People)

I read once that theancient Egyptians hadfifty words for sand& the Eskimos had ahundred words for snow.I wish I hada thousand wordsfor love,but all that comesto mind is the wayyou move against mewhile you sleep & there areno words for that.

I read once that the
ancient Egyptians had
fifty words for sand
& the Eskimos had a
hundred words for snow.
I wish I had
a thousand words
for love,
but all that comes
to mind is the way
you move against me
while you sleep
& there areno words for that.

(~Brian Andreas, Story People)

I’m not here
to keep you
from the places
you feel you need
to go, she said.
When you’re ready,
I’m here to remind
you of the way home.
(~Brian Andreas, Story People)

the days go by
with so many little
things that don’t
seem to matter
until they’re
no longer there
& suddenly,
they’re all
that ever
mattered
(~Brian Andreas, Story People)

Once, there was a girl who wanted to change the world & at first, she thought it’d be easy, because if everyone could see how beautiful it’d be, it’d take about a minute, but all the people she talked to were too busy to stop & listen. So, she went off & did beautiful things all on her own & pretty soon people were stopping & asking if they could come along & do that, too & that’s how she figured out how worlds change.
(~Brian Andreas, Story People)

I still remember the day the world took you back & there was never time to thank you for the thousand scattered moments you left behind to watch us while we slept.
(~Brian Andreas, Story People)

We sat side by side in the morning light & looked out at the future together.
(~Brian Andreas, Story People)

It was a day filled with the glow of ordinary things & we passed them quietly from hand to hand for a long time & someone said she had picked a perfect day to be born & I think all of us felt the same.
(~Brian Andreas, Story People)

I never imagined that first
time I danced with you
would bring me here,
to this exact moment, where
everything I do, even sitting
quietly breathing
is a dance with you.
(~Brian Andreas, Story People)

I will always remember the way you’d laugh & clap your hands watching us play & then later, before bed, you’d gather us in your arms & whisper, Have you ever seen a world so perfect?
(~Brian Andreas, Story People)

This is an interesting planet. It deserves all the attention you can give it. 

(~Marilynne Robinson)

I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night. 

(~Sarah Williams)

We've got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen. 

(~D.H. Lawrence)

For to know a man's library is, in some measure, to know his mind. 

(~Geraldine Brooks)

A book is a garden, an orchard, a storehouse, a party, a company by the way, a counselor, a multitude of counselors. 

(~Charles Baudelaire)

Even the strongest and bravest must sometimes weep. It shows they have a great heart, one that can feel compassion for others. 

(~Brian Jacques)

There is greatness in doing something you hate for the sake of someone you love. 

(~Shmuley Boteach)

Music is the literature of the heart; it commences where speech ends. 

(~Alphonse de Lamartine)

A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. 

(~Robert Frost)

"For all the music in this world, wait until you hear Jesus... singing over you."
(~C. Davis, New City Church, Columbus, OH)