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“I spent my life folded between the pages of books. In the absence of human relationships I formed bonds with paper characters. I lived love and loss through stories threaded in history; I experienced adolescence by association. My world is one interwoven web of words, stringing limb to limb, bone to sinew, thoughts and images all together. I am a being comprised of letters, a character created by sentences, a figment of imagination formed through fiction.

~ Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me

📖Illustration • Over the Rainbow • Laura Orsolini

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Good Books

By Edgar Guest

Good books are friendly things to own. If you are busy they will wait. They will not call you on the phone Or wake you if the hour is late. They stand together row by row, Upon the low shelf or the high. But if you’re lonesome this you know: You have a friend or two nearby.

The fellowship of books is real. They’re never noisy when you’re still. They won’t disturb you at your meal. They’ll comfort you when you are ill. The lonesome hours they’ll always share. When slighted they will not complain. And though for them you’ve ceased to care Your constant friends they’ll still remain.

Good books your faults will never see Or tell about them round the town. If you would have their company You merely have to take them down. They’ll help you pass the time away, They’ll counsel give if that you need. He has true friends for night and day Who has a few good books to read.

🍵📕Illustration by Nora Inla

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The Circling Year

by Ramona Graham

SPRING

The joys of living wreathe my face, My heart keeps time to freshet's race; Of balmy airs I drink my fill— Why, there's a yellow daffodil! Along the stream a soft green tinge Gives hint of feathery willow fringe; Methinks I heard a Robin's "Cheer"— I'm glad Spring's here!

SUMMER

An afternoon of buzzing flies. Heat waves that sear, and quivering rise; The long white road, the plodding team, The deep, cool grass in which to dream; The distant cawing of the crows, Tall, waving grain, long orchard rows; The peaceful cattle in the stream— Midsummer's dream!

AUTUMN

A cold, gray day, a lowering sky, A lonesome pigeon wheeling by; The soft, blue smoke that hangs and fades, The shivering crane that flaps and wades; Dead leaves that, whispering, quit their tree, The peace the river sings to me; The chill aloofness of the Fall— I love it all!

WINTER

A sheet of ice, the ring of steel, The crunch of snow beneath the heel; Loud, jingling bells, the straw-lined sleigh, A restless pair that prance and neigh; The early coming of the night, Red glowing logs, a shaded light; The firelit realm of books is mine— Oh, Winter's fine!

Illustration • Sacred Circle of Seasons • Julene Ewert

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About Writing

 "Writing and reading decrease our sense of isolation. They deepen and widen and expand our sense of life: They feed the soul.

When writers make us shake our heads with the exactness of their prose and their truths, and even make us laugh about ourselves or life, our buoyancy is restored.

We are given a shot at dancing with, or at least clapping along with, the absurdity of life, instead of being squashed by it over and over again. It's like singing on a boat during a terrible storm at sea.

You can't stop the raging storm, but singing can change the hearts and spirits of the people who are together on that ship."

~ Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

Illustration • On the Wind • Marie Muravski

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