My escape and my comfort, my consolation, my stimulant

reading-book-alone

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 AusterThe Brooklyn Follies ( Picador, 2006)


Credits: Image – youreyesblazeout. Quote: Journey of Words

 

17 thoughts on “My escape and my comfort, my consolation, my stimulant”

  1. Wow, a literary escape! Escapism can also be damn comforting if you are refugee of literary wisdom.

    “Let us read, and let us dance; these two amusements will never do any harm to the world.”
    ― Voltaire

    1. Yes! And…You can work magic:

      “A book is made from a tree. It is an assemblage of flat, flexible parts (still called “leaves”) imprinted with dark pigmented squiggles. One glance at it and you hear the voice of another person, perhaps someone dead for thousands of years. Across the millennia, the author is speaking, clearly and silently, inside your head, directly to you. Writing is perhaps the greatest of human inventions, binding together people, citizens of distant epochs, who never knew one another. Books break the shackles of time ― proof that humans can work magic.”

      – Carl Sagan

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