Bookworm Quotes

He drinks his coffee tentatively, glancing at me every few seconds, watching me. Every time he glances in my direction, I quickly turn away though he obviously knows I'm watching him. I know he's wondering why I'm staring at him, but he doesn't ask.I finally take a sip of coffee, set the mug back on the table, and voice what's on my mind, "I want to draw you.

Often, when I am able to check out a book, I read it a dozen times before returning it, desperate to remain lost in the magic of someone else's story.

Reality doesn’t always give us the life that we desire, but we can always find what we desire between the pages of books.

If difficult times teach us the most important lessons, we should then learn to read difficult books.

He will never let her go. Never. she belongs to him..Forever.

She might not be cinderella to lose her shoe to find her prince or Rapunzel for that matter who will lift him up to set her free only to be lost in him, or Snow-white to be kissed and awakened by a Prince or any other princesses but yet she knows, she believes her destiny has a Prince in store for her - Her man. She would be his Princess and he would be her prince.

Oh you cut your hair! What happened? Are you going through a breakup or something?""My favorite character died.

I head in the direction of the Eiffel Tower when I exit the alley, relieved to be out of the dark.

Love is beyond space and time. It reaches out to the heart of the person that you are missing. Love binds two souls and not two bodies.

You've got the look of a girl who's no stranger to the page. I can tell. You've got words in your soul.

You are more likely to find three TVs inside a randomly selected house than you are to find a single book that is or was not read to pass an exam, to please God, or to be a better cook.

Bookworms are the most precious worms in the world when they are humans, feeding upon the paper's body with their starving minds.

She didn't do people, dammit. She did books. A world of difference

In the books I find the thrum of everything unsayable. The characters weep the way I want to, love the way I want to, cry, die, beat their breasts, and bray with life.

But it was different, somehow, to be reading it here, where the actual events had taken place all those hundreds of thousands of years ago. That was the thing about books, she was realizing; they could take you somewhere else entirely, it was true. But it wasn't the same thing as actually going there yourself.

The sad thing about reading the book and then watching the movie is that they have to die all over again.

One of his hands move away from my face to flatten against my back, pulling me closer to him as he deepens the kiss. He parts my lips under his as my mind seems to sign quietly in content. I kiss him back as fiercely as he kisses me, unable to control the infatuation that rushes through me - feeling almost like fireworks. Not so careful anymore.Little shivers of urgency shoot through me. I push off the window, pressing closer to him. The rush of sensation that is coursing through me feels like I've drunk a gallon of coffee. It feels like an electric buzz is flooding between us.

Everyone and Everything is conspiring to end up in a book.

Oh this? It's a 'bookworm.'They live in books, and they love to eat important or valuable words.

Delighted," Jess said. "I think all houses should be stuffed with books. It makes them--""Homes?" the doctor finished. "You are quite the heretic, for someone in a Library uniform.""Guilty.

You've got something that I don't have. Innocence. Ur eyes express it, & I can read everything in them". #MilanoVeneziani. #ItalianPassion

When we step onto the bridge, Nathan turns and spreads his arms out wide. ‘Welcome to Pont des Arts, a.k.a. The Lock Bridge.

She is not an ordinary girl. She is my fairy who will change my life and make it beautiful with her smiles.

Why bring him in my life at all when he never was meant to stay?

I am not afraid of giving bad reviews. If I don't like a book, I don't like it. Period. I don't do promotion

Although I think the word "pleasure" is unknown to you. More precisely, its practical meaning". #MilanoVeneziani. #ItalianPassion

Books, I think, are what magic smells like.

The cure to eliminate fake news is that people stop reading 140-character tweets and start reading 600-page books.

The library at home when she was child had been her refuge. She gravitated to it. When she was anxious, just taking a book of a shelf calmed her. Opening the cover, feeling the paper’s smoothness, smelling the sheets, the leather, even sometimes the ink, centered her.

We want books that make our hearts beat harder... that relieve us of the agonizing burden of everyday life

She believes in love, in destiny and she knows ...she feels her prince in her destiny. She just has to wait for the right time.....

When you paint your lips, eye lids, nails or whatever, to look attractive, don't forget your up stairs(intellect) if you leave it behind, i will consider all other colors invalid.

Books are to the mind as the whetstone for the knives.

Non-fiction is to theory as fiction is to experience.

The best and most exciting kind of love is the one that's so close to the heart and so real in the mind yet, truly never exists in reality -- it keeps the heart young and the mind believing!

Every gesture and every look he gives me takes me by surprise and causes my heart to stutter.

The world is swirling with so many mysteries and secrets that nobody will ever track down all of them. But with a book you can stay up very late, reading until all the secrets are clear to you. The questions of the world are hidden forever, but the answers in a book are hiding in plain sight.

He stares at me—taking me in—with his lips slightly parted. I struggle to hold myself in place as we gawk at each other. I want so desperately to run, but something is holding me back, keeping me in place.

I grab the nearest lamppost when my knees threaten to give out, panting for breath as the words rip through me

I take in all the colorful locks that line the bridge. Each one told a story. Each lock represented a relationship that was once special, whether it ended or turned into true happiness. The locks represented a past, present, and a possible future.

The hours tick by as I lie in bed.Memories keep surfacing, tormenting me into unbelievable sadness. I can't bring myself to move. I can't fight the memories that keep filling my thoughts. I stay curled in the fetal position as each memory plays out. I can't stop them from coming. I can't make them go away. Nothing can distract me. I can't block the memories, so they continue to come.

Her Prince! He might not be the handsomest man on earth. Not even the richest one too but he would have the purest of the heart and soul and he will love her with the same purity throughout eternity. He would be her Prince.

When I read, my mind had the tendency to wander around, embroiling itself in the common points between the plots and my life, feeling empathy for the characters' inner struggles, almost as if they were merging with my personal conflicts.

He smirks, shaking his head and letting his eyes wander. I watch him carefully, wondering what I can say to get him to leave. “I’m not leaving until you answer some questions. Plus, I’m holding your sketchbook hostage, so you might want to cooperate.” I raise an eyebrow at him. I guess there isn’t much I can say. “This isn’t a hostage negotiation.” He chuckles half-heartedly as his eyes take me in, almost sizing me up. “I guess I should introduce myself.” He holds a hand out for me to shake. “I’m Nathan.” I stare at his hand for a moment. “Taylor,” I reply, meeting his eyes again without taking his hand. He lets his hand fall back to his side. “At least I got you to say something non-hostile.” “I haven’t been hostile,” I object. His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, haven’t you?” “Why don’t you leave me alone?” I snap. “Leave and don’t come back.” I move passed him, heading for my apartment. He can’t follow and annoy me if I lock the door. “Where are you going?” he demands. I look back over my shoulder and roll my eyes at him, indicating the answer should be obvious: anywhere he isn’t. Once inside, I slam the door behind me. “That was totally not hostile!” he calls after me, sarcastically. I quickly head for my bedroom door, slamming it, too.

I love a book which never ends in my head, even though- a thousand times, it has been read!

I'm being pulled under - father and farther from the surface. My lungs continue to scream for air. Panic is building inside me, threatening to combust. I can't break free.Help! I can't break free!I open my mouth to scream.

Yes, Rose. Love is a wonderful feeling!

The pages of a book are given life only as they are opened

Night has settled over Paris.The streets have cleared of the crowds, and the city has been lit up. I set my book down, deciding to go for a walk. The Eiffel Tower is only a few blocks away. Now that there aren't many people out, I can walk there without having to fight my way through mobs of gawking tourists.

Some read to learn, some to laugh, and some to live.

I freeze, my feet suddenly glued to the floor. It takes me a minute to gather the courage to turn around, but when I do, I immediately wish I hadn't. The boy is standing in the doorway at the end of the hall.Why is he here again? I barely allow myself time to ask the question before I move. Panicked, I turn and run back downstairs as fast as I can."Hey! Wait!" he calls after me.I don't stop.

So what if he is not part of my present but he is in my future, I know. And everyday I'm going a step closer to my future, to him.

He stares at me—taking me in—with his lips slightly parted. I struggle to hold myself in place as we gawk at each other. I want so desperately to run, but something is holding me back, keeping me in place.

If you want to find out if someone is a true bookworm or not, give them a thousand page novel and see what happens.

No, but I do read a lot. I love to read. I could read for days and never stop. I use to be such a bookworm. I would barely look up to notice much of anything.

When a bookworm finally decides to leave the house, perhaps to explore some literary destination in one of her novels, she will be surprised to know that there is a volatile, often antagonistic force in the real world known as the weather.

There's nothing like a printed book; the weight, the woody scent, the feel, the look.

Only a true reader will understand how lovely it is to read a book on rainy days.

«A book can't take the place of a man!»«I disagree. A book can give you most things a relationship can. It can make you laugh, it can make you cry, it can transport you to different worlds and teach you things. You can even take it out to dinner. And if bores you, you can move on. Which is pretty much what happens in real life.»

Books on the bookshelvesAnd stacked on the floorBooks kept in basketsAnd propped by the doorBooks in neat pilesAnd in disarrayBooks tucked in closetsAnd books on displayBooks filling cranniesAnd books packed in nooksBooks massed in windowsAnd mounded in crooksLibraries beckonAnd bookstores inviteBut book-filled rooms welcomeUs back home at night!