Blech, sick.
Sort of a cold/flu/allergy thing going on.
Anybody got any fun things or home remedies to put me back in cheeryville?
I just love chapters.
Just taking a little section of a book, then stepping cleanly away to return again later. Even the word itself is very crisp, very neat.
I myself seem to have lost the gift of the chapters. I find myself reading just a jumble of pages, any amount at all in the time allotted. When did I lose the chapters? When did I begin to make everything come out all in a rush?
If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking.
— Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood (via noseinabook)
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