Words, Words, Words When I read a book, my heart slips into the pages. It starts out carelessly enough, judging each character and place with an “I like that” or “I don’t like that.” But with each page, my heart changes, and I don’t know it’s happened until it’s too late. Time has crawled by, and hours have felt like days. It’s 4 in the morning and my heart is aching for the faraway kingdom - my heart is bonded to both the protagonist and the antagonist, and all the people they meet along the way. “We read to know that we are not alone,” said the great C.S. Lewis, and how right he was; but there’s more to it than that. The characters cry out to me to tell them that they, too, are not alone. And I respond. In my tears, I acknowledge their anguish, their desires, their loves. Oh, love someone like me. Could you love someone who feels so profoundly, so deeply, for the people out of books?-Anonymous 

Words, Words, Words

When I read a book, my heart slips into the pages. It starts out carelessly enough, judging each character and place with an “I like that” or “I don’t like that.” But with each page, my heart changes, and I don’t know it’s happened until it’s too late. Time has crawled by, and hours have felt like days. It’s 4 in the morning and my heart is aching for the faraway kingdom - my heart is bonded to both the protagonist and the antagonist, and all the people they meet along the way. “We read to know that we are not alone,” said the great C.S. Lewis, and how right he was; but there’s more to it than that. The characters cry out to me to tell them that they, too, are not alone. And I respond. In my tears, I acknowledge their anguish, their desires, their loves. Oh, love someone like me. Could you love someone who feels so profoundly, so deeply, for the people out of books?
-Anonymous