Simon Van Booy’s dedication on his novel, Love Begins in Winter. The sweetest dedication I have ever read. 

Simon Van Booy’s dedication on his novel, Love Begins in Winter.

The sweetest dedication I have ever read. 

Aphrodite: Pfft. That's not the point. Follow your heart.
Percy: But... I don't know where it's going. My heart, I mean.

It is fate that I am here,” persisted George. “But you can call it Italy if it makes you feel better.

—A Room With A View, E.M. Forster

“Hey,” said Shadow. “Huginn or Muninn, or whoever you are.”

The bird turned, head tipped, suspiciously, on one side, and it stared at him with bright eyes.

“Say ‘Nevermore’,” said Shadow.

“Fuck you,” said the raven.

neilgaiman: adeia: This is my book. It might also be your book. It could even be our book. However, I can only say with certainty that it is my book. While I obviously did not write this book, it is still mine in all the other ways a book can belong to a person. This is my favorite book. I first read American Gods when I was fifteen. I was, appropriately enough, going on vacation with my family in our motor home. As we drove across the country, I read. It was hot outside and icy in my book. I read. I escaped. We went south and the book took me north. I fell in love. It was a story that spoke to me in a way stories had never spoken to me. Sure, I was already a lover of books. Sure, I had been reading voraciously for years. But something about this book changed everything. It changed the way I thought about books. It changed the way I thought about America. It changed the way I thought about people. It changed the way I thought about gods. I finished the book. I read it again. I kept finding things. Things I hadn’t noticed on the first read, or the second. I graduated from high school and went to college. I reread the book. Suddenly its layers opened up to me. My knowledge and its knowledge were like two mirrors facing each other, our depths reflecting infinitly. As I grew as a person, as a scholar, the book grew with me. I will never tire of reading this book. Now I am twenty-four and the book is ten. Neil Gaiman, to whom this book belongs even more than it belongs to me, and his publishers have released this 10th anniversary edition. It’s 12,000 words longer. I am scared and excited. I cannot wait to plumb its depths and find something new. I cannot wait to meet the gods again. I’ve read it only twice, but I’m sure anyone who read the book multiple time will find something similar as you did.

neilgaiman:

adeia:

This is my book. It might also be your book. It could even be our book. However, I can only say with certainty that it is my book. While I obviously did not write this book, it is still mine in all the other ways a book can belong to a person.

This is my favorite book.

I first read American Gods when I was fifteen. I was, appropriately enough, going on vacation with my family in our motor home. As we drove across the country, I read. It was hot outside and icy in my book. I read. I escaped. We went south and the book took me north.

I fell in love.

It was a story that spoke to me in a way stories had never spoken to me. Sure, I was already a lover of books. Sure, I had been reading voraciously for years. But something about this book changed everything. It changed the way I thought about books. It changed the way I thought about America. It changed the way I thought about people.

It changed the way I thought about gods.

I finished the book.

I read it again.

I kept finding things. Things I hadn’t noticed on the first read, or the second.

I graduated from high school and went to college.

I reread the book.

Suddenly its layers opened up to me. My knowledge and its knowledge were like two mirrors facing each other, our depths reflecting infinitly. As I grew as a person, as a scholar, the book grew with me.

I will never tire of reading this book.

Now I am twenty-four and the book is ten. Neil Gaiman, to whom this book belongs even more than it belongs to me, and his publishers have released this 10th anniversary edition.

It’s 12,000 words longer.

I am scared and excited. I cannot wait to plumb its depths and find something new.

I cannot wait to meet the gods again.

I’ve read it only twice, but I’m sure anyone who read the book multiple time will find something similar as you did.

(Source: rococoinsinuations)

Every hour wounds. The last one kills.

- old saying

(American Gods, Neil Gaiman)

Half-Living

“What’s more, you’re loads better than you think you are.”
“So why is it I get to thinking that way?” I puzzled.
“That’s because you’re only half-living.” she said briskly. “The other half is still untapped somewhere.”

– A Wild Sheep Chase, Haruki Murakami

Danny: I'm a bit jealous, Sheila.
Sheila: Are you, my dear? What on earth for?
Danny: Well, because you've really lived, Sheila.
Sheila: Of course I have, Daniel. What else is life for?

(Source: )

NIGHTNIGHT by DEDDY