“The feel of them (books) and the smell of them. A bookshop was like an Aladdin’s cave for me. Entire worlds and lives can be found just behind that glossy cover. All you had to do was look.”—Marian Keyes, Watermelon (via bookmania)
“I want to read crate-fulls of old used, bent, wrinkly paged books. With the bindings all creased, and the pages earmarked. I want to know that when I’m reading a book someone else enjoyed it before me.”—(via impulseandinstincts)
“I love you so much even when right now we can’t touch. Even though we start as friends, as of now, I don’t mind that we can’t touch each other. I believe that I’ve passed that point already that I truly, sincerely, love you.”
Loving and being loved back scares me. I don’t know why. I feel uncomfortable and awkward when someone touches me, hugs me and kisses me on the cheeks. Only my friends do that to me of course and I try my best to return the showing of affection but the awkwardness is still there. Maybe it’s because I am not used to someone giving me affection or love. I didn’t feel the love I want from my parents, my family and from the people around me. I received a lot of hurtful teasing from strangers because of the way I look. Or maybe it’s because I feel that I’m not worthy of any kind of love. It doesn’t mean that I don’t crave love sometimes.
But something happened that made me think that maybe I deserved to be loved.
“If you spent your life concentrating on what everyone else thought of you, would you forget who you really were? What if the face you showed the world turned out to be a mask… with nothing beneath it?”—Jodi Picoult, Nineteen Minutes (via bookmania)