Wednesday, June 15, 2011


What’s more delightful than an evening beside the fire with a nice bright lamp and a book, listening to the wind beating against the windows? I’m absolutely removed from the world at such times. The hours go by without my knowing it. Sitting there I’m wandering in countries I can see every detail of — I’m playing a role in the story I’m reading. I actually feel I’m the characters — I live and breathe with them.

Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary 
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