Wednesday, 6 October 2010


"And I love you more than I could say
And probably more than you'd ever wanna hear anyway
But I'm sure you get that an awful lot
And I miss you more than you could know
And no matter how I try I just can't let it go
I'm hoping you feel the same way.."

** Oh! This is my first post for October :)

I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound or stab us. If the book we’re reading doesn’t wake us up with a blow to the head, what are we reading for? So that it will make us happy, as you write? Good Lord, we would be happy precisely if we had no books, and the kind of books that make us happy are the kind we could write ourselves if we had to. But we need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us. That is my belief.

—Franz Kafka

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