I read. I write. I spend all together too much time on the internet. I talk incessantly about books, TV and movies. I write for Hello Giggles and
She had always wanted words, she loved them; grew up on them. Words gave her clarity, brought reason, shape.
Books help to form us. If you cut me open, you will find volume after volume, page after page, the contents of every one I have ever read, somehow transmuted and transformed into me. Alice in Wonderland. the Magic Faraway Tree. The Hound of the Baskervilles. The Book of Job. Bleak House. Wuthering Heights. The Complete Poems of W.H. Auden. The Tale of Mr Toad. Howard’s End. What a strange person I must be. But if the books I have read have helped to form me, then probably nobody else who ever lived has read exactly the same books, all the same books and only the same books as me. So just as my genes and the soul within me make me uniquely me, so I am the unique sum of the books I have read. I am my literary DNA.
The universe is made of stories, not of atoms.