She had the rapt look of one brushing through crowds on a summer’s afternoon, when the trees are rustling, the wheels churning yellow, and the tumult of the present seems like an elegy for past happiness and past summers, and there rose in her mind a curious sadness, as if time and eternity showed through skirts and waistcoasts, and she saw people passing tragically to destruction.
— Virginia Woolf, Jacob’s Room (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)
Books say: She did this because. Life says: She did this. Books are where things are explained to you; life is where things aren’t. I’m not surprised some people prefer books.
— Julian Barnes, Flaubert’s Parrot (via justmoo)
findinghomeinabook: Hello! I'm contacting all the wonderful bookblogs I follow, seeing if they want to be in The Tumblr BookCon Journal :) I tagged the post as that exact phrase (the tumblr BookCon journal) so search it up if you're interested! Thank you :)