He liked not so much what he was reading about as the reading itself, or, better, the process of reading, the fact that letters are eternally forming some word, which sometimes even means the devil knows what.
This is generally how I feel about reading.
D’Artagnan, the original playa:
Do not depend upon me, madame, for the next meeting; since my convalescence I have so many affairs of this kind on my hands, that I am forced to regulate them a little. When your turn comes, I shall have the honour to inform you of it. I kiss your hands.
Poor Lady DeWinter (ha!).
It was a lesson the world had already taught me and was teaching me still. You don’t know what’s possible until you actually see it.
Amanda Lindhout is truly incredible. Her memoir was hard to read and even harder to put down.
I had just come to accept that my life would be ordinary when extraordinary things began to happen.
(Is this not the greatest opening line ever?)
The position (Mr Olderglough assigned it the name of undermajordomo, which Lucy and Father Raymond decided was not a word at all) was lowly and the pay mirrored this but Lucy, having nothing better to do, and nowhere in the world to be … embraced his fate and wrote back to Mr Olderglough, formally accepting the offer, a decision which led to many things, including but not limited to true love, bitterest heartbreak, bright-white terror of the spirit, and an acute homicidal impulse.
How could I possibly put this book down after a set up like that?!