So here’s my recommendation: pick up at least one of these books before you head to school in August.
I read when I want to kill time. I read when I get stressed. I read when I’m angry. I read as my mom shouts at me for skipping meals and choosing books. I read in an attempt to slip away from the monotony of existence.
I wish there was a way to force everyone on the planet to read ‘The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck’.
Whatever the occasion, there’s a book for us to pair with this summer.
If I’ve learned anything from this story and from YA in general, it’s that sympathy is a very easy thing to feel when you have someone’s best interest at heart.
Because it’s hard to sit there and write a book. Really really hard. Someone should write a book how hard it is.
Every day, I do the thing that I have always wanted to do—the thing I believe I was put on earth to do.
All self-help is bullsh*t. It’s hard to choose yourself when an iceberg hits the Titanic.
Reading is a form of training for living.
This earth, and the mystical rules that govern it, do not care about how much you love someone, how much they love you, how long you’ve been together, and how much more time you’re meant to have. In one instant, everything that has ever mattered to you can disappear. In one instant, you can disappear.