As winter approaches - bringing cold weather and family drama - we crave page-turners, books made for long nights and tryptophan-induced sloth.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I have a hard time finding something that I really enjoy reading, but I read 'The Great Gatsby' every summer.
Any book that can help you survive the slings and arrows of adolescence is a book to love for life; 'The Catcher in the Rye' did just that, and I still do love it.
Of all the seasons, winter is the most conducive to the great art of dormancy. This art requires an appreciation of semi-consciousness: the beautiful and necessary prelude to sleep - a special pleasure in itself that is all too often neglected, under-valued or looked down upon.
I'm going to book-and-author dinners, and I'm the author!
A wild and crazy weekend involves sitting on the front porch, smoking a cigar, reading a book.
My absolute favourite piece of information is the fact that young sloths are so inept that they frequently grab their own arms and legs instead of tree limbs, and fall out of trees.
I never understood the concept of a fluffy summer read. For me, summer reading means beaches, long train rides and layovers in foreign airports. All of which call for escaping into really long books.
During the wintertime in cold cities, you sometimes need a party to break through the melancholy.
Sloth is the failure to do what needs to be done when it needs to be done - like the kamikaze pilot who flew seventeen missions.
I think books that are meant to be read in the nighttime ought to confront the very fears that we're trying to think about.
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