Avid Reader Quotes

As any avid reader knew, a good read deserved a good seat.

Leaving any bookstore is hard, especially on a day in August, when the street outside burns and glares, and the books inside are cool and crisp to the touch; especially on a day in January, when the wind is blowing, the ice is treacherous, and the books inside seem to gather together in colorful warmth. It's hard to leave a bookstore any day of the year, though, because a bookstore is one of the few places where all the cantankerous, conflicting, alluring voices of the world co-exist in peace and order and the avid reader is as free as a person can possibly be, because she is free to choose among them.

My mother was an avid reader...She loved books about romance. Books that took place in faraway places and times. Stories with costumes...

The most profound, life-altering gift you can offer the Indie writer you love is to TELL as MANY avid readers as you are able.

Shara was already an avid reader by then, but she had never realized until that moment what books meant, the possibility they presented: you could protect them forever, store them up like engineers store water, endless resources of time and knowledge snared in ink, tied down to paper, layered on shelves.... Moments made physical, untouchable, perfect, like preserving a dead hornet in crystal, one drop of venom forever hanging from its stinger. She felt overwhelmed. It was--she briefly thinks of herself and Vo, reading together in the library--a lot like being in love for the first time.

A good writer is also an avid reader. A good reader is also a vivid dreamer. A good dreamer is also a good learner. And a good learner is definitely a good listener. A good listener is always looking to what the heart speaks. A spoken heart talks directly to a silent soul. And a silent soul is most of the time in pace with a peaceful thought. A peaceful thought is also a good writer...

My father wrote beautifully,” Esmé interrupted. “I’m saving a number of his letters for posterity.” I said that sounded like a very good idea. I happened to be looking at her enormous-faced, chrono-graphic-looking wristwatch again. I asked if it had belonged to her father. She looked down at her wrist solemnly. “Yes, it did,” she said. “He gave it to me just before Charles and I were evacuated.” Self-consciously, she took her hand off the table, saying, “Purely as a momento, of course.” She guided the conversation in a different direction. “I’d be extremely flattered if you’d write a story exclusively for me sometime. I’m an avid reader.” I told her I certainly would, if I could. I said that I wasn’t terribly prolific. “It doesn’t have to be terribly prolific! Just so that isn’t childish and silly.” She reflected. “I prefer stories about squalor.” “About what?” I said, leaning forward. “Squalor. I’m extremely interested in squalor.

A truly great writer is also a avid reader; learn from the mistakes of others to create something new

Books are portals for the imagination, whether one is reading or writing, and unless one is keeping a private journal, writing something that no one is likely to read is like trying to have a conversation when you’re all alone. Readers extend and enhance the writer’s created work, and they deepen the colors of it with their own imagination and life experiences. In a sense, there’s a revision every time one's words are read by someone else, just as surely as there is whenever the writer edits. Nothing is finished or completely dead until both sides quit and it’s no longer a part of anyone’s thoughts. So it seems almost natural that a lifelong avid reader occasionally wants to construct a mindscape from scratch after wandering happily in those constructed by others. If writing is a collaborative communication between author and reader, then surely there’s a time and a place other than writing reviews for readers to 'speak' in the human literary conversation.

Hank Nearly was an avid reader. He arrived early in his brown corduroy coat, with a book taken from the library, copied all the pages on the Xerox machine, and sat at his desk reading what looked passebly like the honest pages of business. He's make it through a three-hundred-page novel every two or three days.

Good writers are avid readers. They have absorbed a vast inventory of words, idioms, constructions, tropes, and rhetorical tricks,

Jackson turned his left hand up and gazed down at the simple black tattoo on the inside of his wrist. He was silent for a long time, then looked up and met my eyes. He said, "You're an avid reader. You know the meaning of semicolon." I frowned. "It's when the author could have ended a sentence but chose not to." "Exactly." "I don't understand." Jackson looked deep into my eyes. His smile might have been the saddest thing I'd ever seen. He said softly, "I'm the author, and the sentence is my life.

When I grow up, maybe I will be the first one to circle the sea. Or maybe I will just spend all my day doing everything my way. Maybe I will be in a world of my own I just hope not alone. I just know that whatever I do I will never, ever forget about you.

After all, much of the fondness avid readers, and certainly collectors, have for their books is related to the books' physical bodies. As much as they are vessels for stories (and poetry, reference information, etc.), books are historical artifacts and repositories for memories-we like to recall who gave books to us, where we were when we read them, how old we were, and so on.

Lately she can read a novel in two hours. She has always been an avid reader, but these days she can read much faster. The colors, the conversations, everything is much more vibrant and inclusive, as if opening a book releases genies trapped inside. The scenes and people between their covers sometimes seem more vivid than real life, with their sunny, pearl-toothed characters, the witty conversation, the handsome stranger squeezed into a subway car or knocking about on the street. Sometimes, when she finishes a book at record speed, Dana feels a slight letdown, as if a good friend has hung up the phone in the middle of a conversation.

There are a lot of books but still waiting for the weekend because there is no time to arrange.

Avid readers are a breed of their own, and we’re often accused of being heady. I don’t care. I love books and can devour one in a whole day if I’m allowed.

I've always loved books. I was an avid reader, with any number of my own stories rolling around in my head. Writing them down seemed a logical step.

...as a child, I was an avid reader. And despite reading hundreds of books about straight people, I did not grow up to embrace the heterosexual lifestyle. Similarly, someone who is heterosexual is not going to turn gay from reading a book that features a child being raised by two moms.

But I had learned a lesson about the overwhelming need of narcissists to be in the right, and to punish those by whom they feel slighted.

The magic in writing is not so much using your imagination as it is allowing the reader to uses theirs. When I write a novel I’m not going to hand walk you through each scene. Avid readers tend to have very high IQ’s so I’m constantly aware of, and respect that. I have a tendency to give my readers vivid descriptions of panoramic viewpoints, soft breezes, and the late evening as it scrapes against the emerging night and present this step by suspenseful step. Once I get them to the threshold of that unseen cliff, I shove them off and say, take it from there.

When we look back, it becomes clear that the acts and accomplishments of human beings are the signatures of history. Human signatures have created an enormous chasm between the joyeous light of the age of the Renaissance to the dark shadow of September 11, 2001. Those of us living on that fateful day experienced the lower depths of mankind. As an author, avid reader, world traveler, and person of enormous curiosity, my life experiences have taught me that discord often erupts from a lack of knowledge and education. To discourage future dark moments, I believe we must nourish the minds of our young with learning that creates understanding between ethnic and religious groups. Perhaps understanding will lead to a marvelous day when we take a last fleeting look at violence so harmful to so many. I sincerely believe that nothing will further the cause of peace more than the education of our young. I would like for readers to know that a percentage of the profits from the sale of this book will be devoted to the cause of education. May all roads lead to peace.

As an avid reader, she tended to get lost in the love between the pages of a good book.

He was, after all, an avid reader, preferring the detached solace of a book above most human interaction. Yet

She was a treasured book in my collection, and I was an avid reader.

not an avid reader but I have not given it my full shot so why not try it and see what happens

avid reader who equates books with oxygen.

Avid readers are the most authentic creatures on the face of the earth, and their hearts and minds are not for sale at any price. "Mysteries for the Inspired Traveler" Goodreads blog

Colored like a sunset tide is a gaze sharply slicing through the reflective glass. A furrowed brow is set much too seriously, as if trying to unfold the pieces of the face that stared back at it. One eyebrow is raised skeptically, always calculating and analyzing its surroundings. I tilt my head trying to see the deeper meaning in my features, trying to imagine the connection between my looks and my character as I stare in the mirror for the required five minutes. From the dark brown hair fastened tightly in a bun, a curl as bright as woven gold comes loose. A flash of unruly hair prominent through the typical browns is like my temper; always there, but not always visible. I begin to grow frustrated with the girl in the mirror, and she cocks her hip as if mocking me. In a moment, her lips curve in a half smile, not quite detectable in sight but rather in feeling, like the sensation of something good just around the corner. A chin was set high in a stubborn fashion, symbolizing either persistence or complete adamancy. Shoulders are held stiff like ancient mountains, proud but slightly arrogant. The image watches with the misty eyes of a daydreamer, glazed over with a sort of trance as if in the middle of a reverie, or a vision. Every once and a while, her true fears surface in those eyes, terror that her life would amount to nothing, that her work would have no impact. Words written are meant to be read, and sometimes I worry that my thoughts and ideas will be lost with time. My dream is to be an author, to be immortalized in print and live forever in the minds of avid readers. I want to access the power in being able to shape the minds of the young and open, and alter the minds of the old and resolute. Imagine the power in living forever, and passing on your ideas through generations. With each new reader, a new layer of meaning is uncovered in writing, meaning that even the author may not have seen. In the mirror, I see a girl that wants to change the world, and change the way people think and reason. Reflection and image mean nothing, for the girl in the mirror is more than a one dimensional picture. She is someone who has followed my footsteps with every lesson learned, and every mistake made. She has been there to help me find a foothold in the world, and to catch me when I fall. As the lights blink out, obscuring her face, I realize that although that image is one that will puzzle me in years to come, she and I aren’t so different after all.

Her ticket to freedom lay in her lap. Ever an avid reader, Annie had escaped into books in recent months, when all else failed to calm her. As a friend, a book had advantages over the human variety. It was there whenever she needed it, it vanished as easily, and it never asked questions, expected witty replies, made awkward suggestions, or otherwise overcompensated for its own inability to right the wrongs of the world.

She liked solitude and the thoughts of her own interesting and creative mind. She liked to be comfortable. She liked hotel rooms, thick towels, cashmere sweaters, silk dresses, oxfords, brunch, fine stationery, overpriced conditioner, bouquets of gerbera, hats, postage stamps, art monographs, maranta plants, PBS documentaries, challah, soy candles, and yoga. She liked receiving a canvas tote bag when she gave to a charitable cause. She was an avid reader (of fiction and nonfiction), but she never read the newspaper, other than the arts sections, and she felt guilty about this. Dov often said she was bourgeois. He meant it as an insult, but she knew that she probably was. Her parents were bourgeois, and she adored them, so, of course, she had turned out bourgeois, too. She wished she could get a dog, but Dov’s building didn’t allow them.

INFJs tend to be avid fiction readers, as this pursuit provides INFJs with much needed recharge time. They likely see themselves in many of the main characters, who are often INFJs, as fiction novel authors are commonly INFJs. To the rarest type (approximately 2% of the population), always on a quest to better understand themselves,  this is both appealing and validating.

She lives inside the book. She loves English literature to the point that her bedroom looks like it came out of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. She is in love with the words, the characters, the paper, the pens … even the smell of the pages. – Uncle of avid reader

Being an avid mystery reader as an adolescent does not prepare you for real life. I truly imagined that my adult existence would be far more booklike than it turned out to be. I thought, for example, that there would be several moments in which I got into a cab to follow someone. I thought I'd attend far more readings of someone's will, and that I'd need to know how to pick a lock, and that any time I went on vacation (especially to old creaky inns or rented lake houses) something mysterious would happen. I thought train rides would inevitably involve a murder, that sinister occurrences would plague wedding weekends, and that old friends would constantly be getting in touch to ask for help, to tell me that their lives were in danger. I even thought quicksand would be an issue.

Best of all, Galignani’s, the English bookstore and reading room, a favorite gathering place, stood across the street from the hotel. There one could pass long, comfortable hours with a great array of English and even American newspapers. Parisians were as avid readers of newspapers as any people on earth. Some thirty-four daily papers were published in Paris, and many of these, too, were to be found spread across several large tables. The favorite English-language paper was Galignani’s own Messenger, with morning and evening editions Monday through Friday. For the newly arrived Americans, after more than a month with no news of any kind, these and the American papers were pure gold. Of the several circulating libraries in Paris, only Galignani’s carried books in English, and indispensable was Galignani’s New Paris Guide in English. Few Americans went without this thick little leather-bound volume, fully 839 pages of invaluable insights and information, plus maps.

There’s something about a bookstore that is so calming. It’s a place where I feel like I belong, like everyone there is part of a special family or fraternity that other people don’t understand. Avid readers are a breed of their own, and we’re often accused of being heady. I don’t care. I love books and can devour one in a whole day if I’m allowed.

Did you know there are hundreds of sites where you can list your free Kindle book promotions and they will give you FREE publicity and promote your book to avid Kindle readers?

My favorite place is the library. theamitkumarswords

I only knew Lestilaut as an antagonistic jock, so it was extremely surprising to learn that he was an avid enough reader to go through the same manuscript several times.

I think the church has done a pretty good job at reaching the "down and outers" but not a good job at reaching the "up and outers." I feel like one of my mandates is to reach corporate America with a message that relates to them. As an avid reader, I realized that the church at large was not speaking the language of corporate America or strategically to the needs of a corporate man/woman.

The Light in the Labyrinth is a beautifully written book, a gem. I savoured every word; words written with so much ‘colour’. Even though I know the story of Queen Anne Boleyn, Dunn’s perspective on her last days is missing in so many other books of the genre. Dunn gives grace to the history and an honest, and very compassionate look at Anne’s last days. I cried in the end, shedding tears for the young Kate, Anne and her little Bess. I have not yet read a Tudor book that has moved me to tears, as this wonderful journey does. Dunn’s dedication and research shines through in this unforgettable book, a book not just for young readers, but also for all.” — Lara Salzano, avid Tudor reader.

Ever since I could remember reading, I was a fan of Horror Novels, then just an Avid reader of all things dark and deeply written or off the cuff styles and not so bland and sterile as if the grammar police forensically wrote it to be safe, then re-edited it to be even more annoyingly not from an emotion but from a text book, I love dark dark fiction that's why i write it. Some of my favorite writers are Anne Rice, Hunter S. Thompson and Clive Barker, perhaps you can sense this in my writing.

Though editors have told me that readers hate math and will never put up with numbers spoiling their stories and pictures, their own media belie this condescension. People avidly consume data in the weather, business, and sports pages, so why not the news?

Good writers are avid readers. They have absorbed a vast inventory of words, idioms, constructions, tropes, and rhetorical tricks, and with them a sensitivity to how they mesh and how they clash. This is the elusive "ear" of a skilled writer-the tacit sense of style which every honest stylebook, echoing Wilde, confesses cannot be explicitly taught. Biographers of great authors always try to track down the books their subjects read when they were young, because they know these sources hold the key to their development as writers.

But avid readers know a great book doesn’t exist only in the realm of the material. The words between those covers bring whole worlds to life. When I think of the characters and stories and ideas contained on a single shelf of my personal library, it boggles my mind. To readers, those books—the ones we buy and borrow and trade and sell—are more than objects. They are opportunities beckoning us. When we read, we connect with them (or don’t) in a personal way. Sometimes the personal nature of reading is kind of a pain, making it difficult to find a great book for an individual reader. Sometimes finding the right book feels like a hassle—especially if you’re standing in the bookstore aisle or perusing the library stacks or even scrutinizing the teetering pile on your nightstand, debating what to read next—when all you want to do is find a book you will love, that you’ll close in the span of a few hours or days or weeks and say, “That was amazing.” A great book. That’s all you want. But reading is personal. We can’t know what a book will mean to us until we read it. And so we take a leap and choose.

Observation: Thanks to technological advances, avid readers seem to be replacing DTBAD (Dead Tree Book Acquisition Disorder) with an alphabet soup of more more modern-day hoarding behaviors: EBAD (E-Book Acquistion Disorder), EGAD (Electronic Gadget Acquisition Disorder), and ABAD (Audiobook Acquisition Disorder). Of course, there's also MYBAD (Movie and YouTube Acquisition Disorder: the hoarding or obsessive viewing of digital films and videos, some based on books). If any of these syndromes describes you, take heart: there's probably an app for that! - 8/9/2013

She liked receiving a canvas tote bag when she gave to a charitable cause. She was an avid reader (of fiction and nonfiction), but she never read the newspaper, other than the arts sections, and she felt guilty about this. Dov often said she was bourgeois. He meant it as an insult, but she knew that she probably was. Her parents were bourgeois, and she adored them, so, of course, she had turned out bourgeois, too. She wished she could get a dog, but Dov’s building didn’t allow them. But the reason she was bourgeois was so she could make work that wasn’t bourgeois. If she were cautious in her life, she could avoid compromising in her work.

I was an avid reader of Surf Life magazine, and I was surprised to discover a write-up of our Tasmanian visit. It made me proud to read how impressed those guys were with Steve’s surfing abilities. One incident that didn’t make the article was when Steve came partway to shore while I watched him from the beach. All of a sudden he stripped off his wet suit. It was winter and quite cold. “What are you doing?” I called out. He stood in the icy water. “This is how dedicated I am to having a boy baby,” he said, with a mischievous grin. I said, “I think you’re just supposed to keep them cool, not actually freeze them off.” He laughed. But I knew this was Steve’s way of encouraging me to stick to the boy-baby diet. Did I mention that I could not eat chocolate? The sacrifices we make for love.

Chaos and disruption, I later learned, are central tenets of Bannon's animating ideology. Before catalyzing America's dharmic rebalancing, his movement would first need to instill chaos through society so that a new order could emerge. He was an avid reader of a computer scientist and armchair philosopher who goes by the name Mencius Moldbug, a hero of the alt-right who writes long-winded essays attacking democracy and virtually everything about how modern societies are ordered. Moldbug’s views on truth influenced Bannon, and what Cambridge Analytica would become. Moldbug has written that “nonsense is a more effective organizing tool than the truth,” and Bannon embraced this. “Anyone can believe in the truth,” Moldbug writes, “to believe in nonsense is an unforgettable demonstration of loyalty. It serves as a political uniform. And if you have a uniform, you have an army It serves as a political uniform. And if you have a uniform, you have an army.

We have so little in common, but we were both avid readers growing up. I read almost nonstop when I was little, and it saved me in school. I hated classes, hated teachers. They always wanted me to do things I didn't want to do. But because I was a reader, they knew I wasn't stupid, just different. They cut me slack. It got me through. Reading couldn't help me make friends, though. I never got the hang of it. I would talk to kids, and over the years a handful of them even seemed to like me enough to ask to come over, but after that first visit to the house they never lasted. Ma told me what I did wrong but I could never manage to do it right. 'Act interested in what they say,' she said, but they never said anything interesting. 'Don't talk too much,' she said, but it never seemed like too much to me. So it wasn't like people threw tomatoes at me, or dipped my pigtails in inkwells, or stood up to move their desks away from mine, but I never really managed to make friends that I could keep. And I got used to it. I got used to a lot of things. Writing extra papers to make up for falling short in class participation. Volunteering to do the planning and the typing up whenever we had group work assigned, because I knew I could never really work right with a group. And the coping always worked. Up until three years into college, where despite Ma's repeated demands to try harder, I stalled. Every semester since, I was always still trying to finish that last Oral Communications class, which I had repeatedly failed. This semester I only made it six weeks in before it became obvious I wouldn't pass. I think we'd both finally given up.

Rapunzel woke up to the dazzling, sparkling, gently chiming display with more cheer than anyone really should who had spent the last six thousand and approximately nine hundred days in a lonely tower. "This birthday is going to be great. I just know it!" She only really knew about birthdays because she had read about them in one of the thirty-seven books she owned: Book #3: Stories from Rome and Other Great Empires. Marc Antony apparently had splendid birthdays, and Cleopatra gave him the most cunning gifts. Anyway, they seemed like a marvelous idea, and she had adopted this time of year as her own. Had there been anyone around, they would have been amazed at the hermit's beauty. For one thing, her cheeks were surprisingly rosy for a girl who had been indoors her whole life. (This was because on sunny Wednesday and Saturday afternoons she carefully followed the window-shaped spot of sun around her room, lying down and soaking in the warm rays.) Her eyes were large and green because of parents she had never known. Her lips were usually set in an expectant smile because she was Rapunzel; good-natured, lighthearted, with a quick mind that constantly refused to be crushed by her circumstances.

THE THING THAT ENTRANCED ME about Chicago in the Gilded Age was the city’s willingness to take on the impossible in the name of civic honor, a concept so removed from the modern psyche that two wise readers of early drafts of this book wondered why Chicago was so avid to win the world’s fair in the first place. The juxtaposition of pride and unfathomed evil struck me as offering powerful insights into the nature of men and their ambitions. The more I read about the fair, the more entranced I became. That George Ferris would attempt to build something so big and novel—and that he would succeed on his first try—seems, in this day of liability lawsuits, almost beyond comprehension. A rich seam of information exists about the fair and about Daniel Burnham in the beautifully run archives of the Chicago Historical Society and the Ryerson and Burnham libraries of the Art Institute of Chicago. I acquired a nice base of information from the University of Washington’s Suzallo Library, one of the finest and most efficient libraries I have encountered. I also visited the Library of Congress in Washington, where I spent a good many happy hours immersed in the papers of Frederick Law Olmsted, though my happiness was at times strained by trying to decipher Olmsted’s execrable handwriting. I read—and mined—dozens of books about Burnham, Chicago, the exposition, and the late Victorian era. Several proved consistently valuable: Thomas Hines’s Burnham of Chicago (1974); Laura Wood Roper’s FLO: A Biography of Frederick Law Olmsted (1973); and Witold Rybczynski’s A Clearing in the Distance (1999). One book in particular, City of the Century by Donald L. Miller (1996), became an invaluable companion in my journey through old Chicago. I found four guidebooks to be especially useful: Alice Sinkevitch’s AIA Guide to Chicago (1993); Matt Hucke and Ursula Bielski’s Graveyards of Chicago (1999); John Flinn’s Official Guide to the World’s Columbian Exposition (1893); and Rand, McNally & Co.’ s Handbook to the World’s Columbian Exposition (1893). Hucke and Bielski’s guide led me to pay a visit to Graceland Cemetery, an utterly charming haven where, paradoxically, history comes alive.

Observation: Thanks to technological advances, avid readers seem to be replacing DTBAD (Dead Tree Book Acquisition Disorder) with an alphabet soup of more more modern-day hoarding behaviors: EBAD (E-Book Acquistion Disorder), EGAD (Electronic Gadget Acquisition Disorder), and ABAD (Audiobook Acquisition Disorder). Of course, there's also MY(Ba)AD (Movie and YouTube (and Book adaptations) Acquisition Disorder: the hoarding or obsessive viewing of digital films and videos, some based on books). If any of these syndromes describes you, take heart: there's probably an app for that! - Lisa Tolliver 8/9/2013(E-Book Acquistion Disorder), EGAD (Electronic Gadget Acquisition Disorder), and ABAD (Audiobook Acquisition Disorder). Of course, there's also MY(Ba)AD (Movie and YouTube (and Book adaptations) Acquisition Disorder: the hoarding or obsessive viewing of digital films and videos, some based on books). If any of these syndromes describes you, take heart: there's probably an app for that!

Lafitte turned up in yet another tangle of major, historic proportions during the 1960s. Around the time of the JFK assassination, Lafitte worked for the Reily Coffee Company and then as a chef for the World Trade Mart, both in New Orleans. William B. Reily, an avid anti-Communist, owned the Reily Coffee Company and was closely connected to McCarthyite and rabid anti-Communist Edward Scannell Butler, who were both close to CIA assistant director Charles Cabell, CIA SRS chief Paul Gaynor, and Agency ARTICHOKE official Morse Allen. Readers may recall that alleged JFK assassin Lee Harvey Oswald also worked as a maintenance man for the Reily Coffee Company in the summer of 1963.

Poets must be grounded in the education of the arts, drama, history, mysticism, esotericism, and philosophy. To gain knowledge and become learned of the above is easy - read. Poets should apply this knowledge to their work, so a poet will advance to the next level, to their next phase of their emotional, psychological and spiritual development, growing in years in a short space of time, in hours or months if he or she is an avid reader. This knowledge will birth work that is not meretricious but of noble parentage.

Sidney was a tall, slender man in his early thirties. A lover of warm beer and hot jazz, a keen cricketer and an avid reader, he was known for his understated clerical elegance. His high forehead, aquiline nose and longish chin were softened by nut-brown eyes and a gentle smile, one that suggested he was always prepared to think the best of people.

I was an avid reader of Surf Life magazine, and I was surprised to discover a write-up of our Tasmanian visit. It made me proud to read how impressed those guys were with Steve’s surfing abilities.

I'm an avid reader and when I read, I escape. The point to reading and watching movies are to escape your shitty, fucked up life for just a few hours.

Avid readers are a breed of their own, and we’re often accused of being heady. I don’t care. I love books and can devour one in a whole day if I’m allowed. Claire

Entrepreneurs read on average 50 new books per year (about one book per week), and avid readers read about three books per week. And, even more important, how many books will you be RE-READING this year? Do the same for each month.

I loved college... I knew exactly why I was there and what I wanted to get out of it. I wished I could take every course in the curriculum and read every book in the library. Sometimes after I finished a particularly good book, I had the urge to get the library card, find our who else had read the book, and track them down to talk about it.

Even if we accept that we are prone to errors in judgment, how do we know when to dig deeper? When might our own views not be built on stable foundations? Fortunately, there are a number of ways. Avid readers and learners, especially those who study across various fields, will tell you that they read diverse topics so they can connect patterns across disciplines or industries. From this practice, they train their brain to recognize opportunity, seeing what worked in one place and applying it elsewhere. By doing so, these people force themselves to break out of the walls that could trap them and to remain open to possibility.

When reading literature, we become a thousand different people and yet remain ourselves.

Being an avid mystery reader as an adolescent does not prepare you for real life. I truly imagined that my adult existence would be far more booklike than it turned out to be. I thought, for example, that there would be several moments in which I got into a cab to follow someone. I thought I’d attend far more readings of someone’s will, and that I’d need to know how to pick a lock, and that any time I went on vacation (especially to old creaky inns or rented lake houses) something mysterious would happen. I thought train rides would inevitably involve a murder, that sinister occurrences would plague wedding weekends, and that old friends would constantly be getting in touch to ask for help, to tell me that their lives were in danger. I even thought quicksand would be an issue.

You’re an avid reader. You know the meaning of a semicolon.” I frowned. “It’s when the author could have ended a sentence but chose not to.” “Exactly.” “I don’t understand.” Jackson looked deep into my eyes. His smile might have been the saddest thing I’d ever seen. He said softly, “I’m the author, and the sentence is my life.” Oh my God.

I was never an avid reader, never a bookworm. I preferred magazines and movies! Didn't make time for books outside of the classroom. In my 20s and 30s, I read a couple books a year, usually at the recommendation of a gf or a colleague. After my mom passed away in 2015, I took up reading like it was my job...part grief mechanism and part celebration of and appreciation for my mom. She was an avid reader her entire life. A retired 2nd grade school teacher, she once told me that she would have loved being a librarian.

Every avid reader knew you didn’t fuck with a girl’s Kindle.

My Great-Grandma G, an avid reader, always said "a good book can take you anywhere you want to go". No need for passports, spending money, or travel insurance. Where are you off to next?

Nothing is real for me until I've read about it.

The most amusing experience I keep having happens when someone tries to defeat me with arguments on psychology and spirituality. They forget that I'm a world expert, an avid researcher and a very fast reader. This should be enough to make them humble during a discussion. Instead, they decide to amuse me with their ignorance.

The variety of political positions shared on Facebook in the 2016 Presidential Election was both entertaining and, sadly, destructive. I observed friends of a lifetime divide into different camps and sacrifice their friendships through argument and debate. As an avid reader and political junkie, I had to hold myself back from expressing my opinions or presenting factual evidence which would obliterate others’ claims. Why would I jump into the fray? All it would do is hurt the friendship. Rarely does arguing political positions change an opinion or belief.

Harriet read more voraciously than Simon and Margot ever had. They discouraged this; she’d be so bored once she ran out of texts that were new to her. She surprised them with the discovery that once an avid reader runs out of books, she reads people. Harriet read everybody she met, and when she met them again, she reread them.

My favorite place is the library. Bookish.

Apparently, I’m known as a “reader.” I read two or three books a week, which normally comes in at around one hundred and twenty-five books a year. And I feel pretty good about that. At least I did. Until I read Charles Chu’s calculations. The average American reads two hundred to four hundred words per minute. At that speed we could all read two hundred books a year, nearly twice my quota, in just 417 hours. Sounds like a lot, right? 417? That’s over an hour a day. But can you guess how much time the average American spends on social media each year? The number is 705 hours. TV…2,737.5 hours. Meaning, for just a fraction of the time we give to social media and television, we could all become avid readers to the nth degree. Chu lamented: Here’s the simple truth behind reading a lot of books. It’s not that hard. We have all the time we need. The scary part—the part we all ignore—is that we are too addicted, too weak, and too distracted to do what we all know is important.

An avid reader, he found himself agreeing with the former Soviet dissident turned Israeli political figure Natan Sharansky, whose The Case for Democracy (2004) distinguished between “free societies,” where dissent flourished, and “fear societies,” where unpopular opinions risked imprisonment and death.

Richard Noll argued that much of what Jung cited as “smoking gun” evidence for the collective unconscious and archetypes could be accounted for by cryptomnesia—patients reproducing in dreams and fantasies ideas encountered in their prior reading.32 Although we need to be cautious of cryptomnesia invoked to debunk psychic claims, for reasons discussed earlier, what makes Noll’s argument compelling in Jung’s case is that his world was suffused with reading material that would supply his patients with precisely the mythological symbols that so interested him. Not only were they widely available in scholarly works, since ancient symbolism and pagan religions were all the rage at that point, but they were also available in publications of the Theosophical Society. For years, the Theosophical Publishing House had been flooding Europe and America with inexpensive, Theosophically inflected translations of ancient wisdom literature and Eastern philosophy. Spiritual and intellectual seekers of the sort who flooded to Jung’s clinic were avid readers of these books, as was Jung himself. Noll argues that Jung’s strong personality and ego contributed to turning his clinic into an echo chamber that amplified the archetypal signal. He specifically sought mythological material in his patients’ dreams and fantasies; patients were rewarded when they supplied it (and ignored when they didn’t); and a powerful selection or file-drawer effect made ancient myths and symbols seem like some objective organizing principle in our lives when they were more likely just the doctor’s own interests (and his patients’ reading) writ large. To this day, it is mainly patients in Jungian analysis who report archetypal or alchemical dreams (just as it is mainly patients in Freudian analysis who produce Oedipal ones33). Noll thus concluded that the collective unconscious is not some transpersonal Platonic wellspring of shared symbolic motifs but, much more humbly, simply the books on Jung’s own impressive bookshelf and those of his well-read patients.

Avid reader.

Considering eighteenth-century social mores, Franklin assembled an incredibly divergent mix for the time: rich and poor, young and old, clerk and merchant alike. These were all white men, of course, but for his time, Franklin was breaking down barriers. Every Friday evening, the Junto would congregate to share the essays its members had written on subjects of personal interest. A debate on ethics or natural philosophy, aka scientific inquiry, might follow. To ensure civility, the group levied small fines for direct criticism or personal attacks. Many of these men had no higher education, but they were curious, intellectually intrepid, and, of course, avid readers. Franklin made sure of that in selecting them.

Harro could not only perform complex mathematical operations in his head, he was an avid reader who had a vivid and original way of talking about things. Asked to compare the words fly and butterfly, he launched into an etymological reverie: “The butterfly is colorful and the fly is black. The butterfly has big wings so that two flies could go underneath one wing. But the fly is much more skillful and can walk up the slippery glass and up the wall . . . The microscope explains how the fly can walk up the wall: just yesterday I saw it has teeny weeny claws on the feet and at the ends tiny little hooks.” But Harro was failing in school, because he was very disruptive in class, like Fritz. He would crawl around on all fours and announce that a lesson was “far too stupid” for him. He rarely did his homework, and if a teacher gave him a makeup assignment, he would sneer, “I wouldn’t dream of doing this.” He spent his days immersed in the books he loved, a stranger to the children around him.

I grew up a daydreamer and an avid reader, becoming an author was inevitable really.

Warren was probably the most avid reader who ever ran the library. She believed librarians' single greatest responsibility was to read voraciously. Perhaps she advocated this in order to be sure librarians knew their books, but for Warren, this directive was based in emotion and philosophy: She wanted librarians to simply adore the act of reading for its own sake, and perhaps, as a collateral benefit, they could inspire their patrons to read with a similarly insatiable appetite. As she said in a speech to a library association in 1935, librarians should "read as a drunkard drinks or as a bird sings or a cat sleeps or a dog responds to an invitation to go walking, not from conscience or training, but because they'd rather do it than anything else in the world.

Jim Trelease: Until the "Call of the Wild", I'd always been aware I was reading a book; that is, I'd yet to be "lost" in one. Jack London gave me my first dose of "virtual reality" decades before the phrase was coined. I went immediately to his "White Fang" and then Jack O'Brien's "Silver Chief" series. For years afterwards I believed the whole experience was peculiar to me. It wasn't until I was in my fifties and read an old essay by Clifton Fadiman that I discovered the experience wasn't peculiar at all, that nearly all lifetime readers experience it with a singular book at some point. Fadiman explained that such a book is like one's first big kiss or first home run - they're unforgettable, and we spend the rest of our lives trying to duplicate or surpass them. In recent years, when my friend Stephen Krashen, the reading researcher, explored Fadiman's theory, he found it to be firmly grounded: teenagers who were avid readers could almost always name their "home run" book while unenthusiastic or reluctant readers could not.

Many novelists—including Izumi Kyōka (1873–1939), Tanizaki Jun’ichirō (1886–1965), Akutagawa Ryūnosuke (1892–1927), Ishikawa Jun (1899–1987), Enchi Fumiko (1905–1986), and Mishima Yukio (1925–1970)—were avid readers of the collection. Two of the tales inspired Mizoguchi Kenji’s cinematic masterpiece Ugetsu monogatari (1953; known to Western viewers as Ugetsu), which is widely regarded as “one of the greatest of all films.

Scott Byer's journey is one of continuous self-improvement and growth. He's an avid reader of self-improvement books and financial literature, always seeking to expand his knowledge and skills.

in Death, 2007 (In Death,

we wouldn’t offer our child just one kind of book if we wanted him to become an avid reader: we can learn how to do the same with food.

Creative people generally are self-motivated, independent, delighted by novelty, risk takers, tolerant of ambiguity, deeply involved in their work, avid readers, and world travelers.

If you are an avid reader that loves to discover new books and authors, Kindle Unlimited is going to provide you an amazing deal.

Jasper T. Scott is the author of more than ten novels, written across various genres. He has been writing for more than eight years, but his abiding passion has always been to write science fiction and fantasy. As an avid fan of Star Wars and Lord of the Rings, Jasper Scott aspires to create his own worlds to someday capture the hearts and minds of his readers as thoroughly as these franchises have. Jasper writes his books from Central America and offers his sincerest apologies and regrets for his long absence from the rat race, but to all the noble warriors who venture out daily into the wintry cold on their way to work or school, he sends his regards—you are braver than he.

As an avid reader, tell me,” he said, “are you ever moved to turn your hand to writing?” “Writing?” she said upon a gurgle. “Writing.” Of all questions, how could he ask this? “I don’t know why I should tell you anything about myself.” “Whyever not?” “You called me a porridge.” “Do you mind it much?” “Yes.” Her lips twitched. She turned her face away. “Not so much.” “Not at all, I suspect.” She pinned him with what she hoped was a hard stare. “How can you claim to suspect anything about me?” He did not immediately reply. “Would you believe a little bird told me?” “I shan’t call you incorrigible, my lord, for I guess you have been called that before—” “From the time I was in short-pants.” “— and my chastisement should fail from banality.” “Never.” “And I shan’t gape at your inappropriate familiarities, for I think that would only make you say more to try to shock me.” “Probably.” He folded his hands across the low pommel of the saddle, waiting, she realized, his gaze upon her warm with amused interest. “Oh.” She was a wretched liar; he would see it in her face. “Yes, of course I write.” -Cam & Jacqueline

Elliott was disarmingly bright, according to everyone who knew him, an avid reader of Dostoevsky, Kafka, Beckett, Stendhal, Freud, the Buddha, all of whom destabilized notions of identity. I think he knew how little we know about who we are. The idea comes through in lyrics. “I don’t know who I am,” he says simply; at times he wishes he were no one. He’s a stickman shooting blanks at emptiness, living with “one dimension dead.” He’s an invisible man with a see-through mind. He’s a junkyard full of false starts. He’s a ghost-writer, feeling hollow.

Norwegian, Swedish, and Danish. Her most recent translations include Martin Jensen’s The King’s Hounds trilogy (Amazon Crossing, 2013–2015), Sven Nordqvist’s Pettson and Findus books (NorthSouth, 2014–2016), and Jo Nesbø’s Doctor Proctor’s Fart Powder series (Aladdin, 2010–2014). An avid reader and language learner, Chace earned her PhD in Scandinavian Languages

Kate is an avid reader of fiction and came across a quote from Anthony Trollope’s novel Barchester Towers. I believe it explains why I did not kill Shirley: “A man in the right relies easily on his rectitude and therefore goes about unarmed. His very strength is his weakness. A man in the wrong knows that he must look to his weapons; his very weakness is his strength. The one is never prepared for combat, the other is always ready. Therefore it is that in this world the man that is in the wrong almost invariably conquers the man that is in the right, and invariably despises him.” Responses

My husband and I have lived in Oregon for 55 years in Eugene, Portland, Neskowin and Hood River. We have explored much of Oregon and are avid readers of travel and history. We are familiar with Oregon’s bigoted history and Oregon’s positive and negative politics. From Bettie Denny’s fiction book I could picture places, people and events. The book begins and ends in the Lone Fir Cemetery founded in 1866 in southeast Portland. Murphy Gardener, a new Oregonian reporter, is assigned to cover the Halloween cemetery tales at the cemetery, meeting a black cat, and a new friend, Anji. Murphy and Anji soon meet for breakfast at the Zell Café and embark on a historical quest. Untangling a chain of events and people through maps, letters, photos and directories they sort though the detritus of lives. A photo and a dubious translation, ending at the Lone Fir Cemetery, give some probable answers to their quest. I love mysteries and Denny does an exquisite job of linking the present to the past. She visits The Oregon State Hospital Museum, Oregon Historical Society, Chinatown, Phil Knight Library, Columbia Gorge Discovery Center and Edgefield. She reads about suffrage, about the “incorrigible’” Abigail Scott Dunaway and her infamous brother Harvey Scott, publisher of the Oregonian. She uncovers past issues of sex slaves and current issues sex trafficking. She also showplaces current establishments such as the Bipartisan Café in Montavilla, The Sunshine Mills in The Dalles where she gathers with those who are aiding her in her historical quest. For those of you Oregonians who want a good mystery taking place in your own backyard, I recommend this book highly.

In 1991, while looking forward to his retirement and planning to open a school for underprivileged children, he started writing down his memoirs. He had always written poetry and was an avid reader from his days as a student in Madras. The book he wrote began with his childhood days and ended somewhere after the launch of Agni. Called Wings of Fire,

To be honest with you, Melville, I sometimes don’t have the faintest idea what I’m trying to say with my damned allegories. I feel as if I’m writing with invisible ink.” ... [...] Even if the world presses it by, you shall have at least one avid reader who will enjoy it immensely. And I am a special reader, you must remember: I can read between the lines on the page and I see invisible ink, as well. Nothing escapes me!

What if les charmantes think differently, act differently than humans who don't have magic? What if we behave instinctually in ways that are basically in ways that are basically anathema to normal society?" Belle sighed. "What if you, Rosalind, my mother, act differently from humans- and everyone else? The villagers, the servants, the government? What if you personally hold yourself above the law- as a vigilante? What if it's just you? You're doing the same thing D'Arque did... applying the actions of one to a whole people. That's ridiculous. Whether you're Huguenot or Catholic or Jewish or gypsy or short or have dark skin- or blue skin. Everyone is different. Each person has his or her own destiny." Rosalind gave her a sly look. "That's very wise, and clever. You're still an avid reader.

The ruling Indian National Congress did not receive adequate attention of our trainers. The talks were rudimentary and an avid reader of the national history that I was, could discern that the analysts were reluctant to talk freely on the ruling party. The communists and communalists were the fiercest ghosts to the intelligence community and their political masters. The ruling party was treated as Caesar’s Wife.

Avid reader, avid learner.

mattered little to Rutherford’s avid readers that this supposed Rhodes quotation was a total fabrication, or that every one of her “facts” and “truths” cited above was false.