Just finished The History of Love. Another book that reminded me just how much I love literature.

I love it as a medium.

I love it as a mode.

[ha! unintended math pun!]

No, no... I just love it!

This particular book fueled my fantasy of marrying an author. I don't think I could a novel justice. But to be married to an artist? To perhaps even be a source of inspiration? To pass life "at the side" of a MacDonald or Tolkien or even a Dahl? 

Its just a dream. I don't require a fantastical author-husband... but it would be lovely =)

Just an excerpt, from the perspective of an author within the novel:

When I saw a Starbucks I went in and bought a coffee because I felt like a coffee, not because I wanted anyone to notice me. Normally I would have made a big production, Give me a Grande Vente, I mean a Tall Grande, Give me a Chai Super Vente Grande, or do I want a Short Frappe? and then, for punctuation, I would've had a small mishap at the milk station. Not this time. I poured the milk like a normal person, a citizen of the world, and sat down in an easy chair across from a man reading the newspaper. I wrapped my hands around the coffee. The warmth felt good. The next table over there was a girl with blue hair leaning over a notebook and chewing on a ballpoint pen, and at the table next to her was a little boy in a soccer uniform sitting with his mother who told him, The plural of elf is elves. A wave of happiness came over me. It felt giddy to be part of it all. To be drinking a cup of coffee like a normal person. I wanted to shout: The plural of elf is elves! What a language! What a world!

 Isn't it irresistibly happy? I really appreciate Nicole Krauss's writing style... this is only a snippet.

A girl in my honors course recently shared a quote: "A picture's worth a thousand words; and a word is worth a thousand pictures."
I want to spend my life exploring the trail of pictures the words leave behind...