The Christmas Bookshop Quotes

What do you think happiness is?” she asked him. “A by-product,” he answered immediately, “to being useful.

Christmas at the bookshop is the best.

People buy things in the hope that it will make them feel better,” said Blair. “It gives you a momentary boost, just buying it, but not for long. It’s just a stupid dopamine hit

And his advice, you know. Find something true to your spirit and your soul and do it every day.

She couldn’t even be jealous; it was something so lovely and far out of reach. It would be like being jealous of Amal Clooney.

Carmen measured her days in books.

Carmen followed her heart and read books wherever her interests took her, about space, history, romance, anything she felt like, alighting from one to the next like a butterfly. Carmen shrugged.

And tiny Leone smiled and took the book after Carmen carefully wrapped it up in paper and held it tight to her breast, as if she both loved it and was slightly scared of it, which were not, after all, the worst emotions to feel about a book.

You saw how Ebenezer's unhappy childhood [of A Christmas Carol] made him who he was. Imagine how he might feel if his business burned to the ground." It was an apt comparison between Ebenezer Scrooge and Mrs. Nesbitt to be sure. One Grace had never thought to put together before that moment. But it was true how anger could be used to mask hurt, especially when hurt was such a very vulnerable emotion. Even Mr. Evans had used his gruffness to mask his memories of his daughter when Grace had first started to work at the bookshop. Who knew what Mrs. Nesbitt had experienced in her life to make her so hard and bitter?

Carmen measured her days in books. She kept a paperback under the desk for quiet periods, when she had remade as many window displays as one could usefully do in one day, and dusted, polished, straightened and checked the samples. When she had first started working at Dounston’s, they had always been so busy, and she’d kept her reading for the bus and lunchtime. Now, she could get through a novel every three days, and it kept getting faster. It was very, very worrying.

you really have never heard of me, have you?” “I totally almost have,” protested Carmen.

Marbled endpapers, Mr. McCredie observed, meant nothing to children. But they meant a lot to those who loved color and beauty and stories that would never end.

That’s not a telephone,” he said. “It’s a magic wand hell-bent on destroying the world. But you call it what you want. Magic waves, blah blah blah.

It was definitely something beginning with “C.” Crappy, cloudy, and cluttered? Cheap, cheery, and crud? Carmen frowned. “Clean! Clear! Curated!” said Mrs. Marsh, after waiting on a pause.

People buy things in the hope that it will make them feel better,” said Blair. “It gives you a momentary boost, just buying it, but not for long.

Traumatized children?” mused Ramsay. “When we read the boys ‘The Snow Queen,’ Patrick put all our glasses in the bin in case he broke one and got a bit in his eye.

Noel Streatfeild’s White Boots from 1951

Is this a love potion?” “Oh goodness, no, you don’t need that,” said Bronagh. “No. It’s for the bond that holds two sisters, one of the strongest things on earth. Forged in steel, hard as iron, easy to burn, never to break. Goodspeed home.

it is not unreasonable to think that when you touch a baby’s face you are touching the face of God. Have you ever seen a baby in an old people’s home? They are worshipped. They become divine.

He was a good man, Federico, but like many others was guilty of letting his wife handle the domestics, despite the fact that she’d been to law school and graduated higher than he had.

People buy things in the hope that it will make them feel better,” said Blair. “It gives you a momentary boost, just buying it, but not for long. It’s just a stupid dopamine hit whereby I tell you things are going to be great and you fantasize that they are and you feel better.

Edinburgh was the first designed city in the world. The birth of the Enlightenment. The whole idea that we could plan our futures for ourselves, that we were not dependent on the whims of God, that we could conquer our animal natures, find our place in the world. That from this jumbled”—he swept his arm around at the jammed-together old houses on the up-and-down cobbled streets of the Old Town—“thrown-together world, you could have beauty, order, fresh air. The New Town is philosophy made stone.

Trees are astonishing communicators.” “When they rustle?” “It’s more like a kind of bubbly noise. If they’re thirsty. Like trying to get the last bits through a straw.” “Why isn’t everyone absolutely freaking out about this?” said Carmen. “Well, dendrologists are. For years, it was considered absolutely ridiculous to think it. Then studies came along and proved it.

What do you think happiness is?” she asked him. “A by-product,” he answered immediately, “to being useful.” She looked at him. “What?” she said. “What do you mean?” He looked back at her, surprised. “Well,” he said, “if you do good work and are useful, that makes you happy.

Everywhere in Edinburgh is uphill. This doesn’t seem like it can possibly be true, but it is.

suddenly all their antipathy melted away,

He looked back at her, surprised. “Well,” he said, “if you do good work and are useful, that makes you happy.

All days are special days. Every day we should feel, I hope, a little grace. And we can use it to bring peace in everything we do, to reconcile and bear quiet witness to our common humanity.

He came into the bookstore the Christmas before last to buy a present for his ex-mother-in-law. The Serenity Bookshop, right here in Wellesley, Mass.—ever heard of it? It’s a nice cozy spot packed with armchairs and atmosphere. We keep some dirty novels in the back for people with real imagination. Susana opened it when she moved up here with me seven and a half years ago. She had to do something, and she didn’t want to start college, like me. So she started a bookstore instead.

We can’t exactly do normal things. If we all go out on a date together, people are going to stare. How would we buy a house together? How will we sort out life insurance, or split up the chores? Who cleans the bathroom? How the fuck will we sign our Christmas cards?” “That’s easy. We don’t send Christmas cards.” “I’m serious! The world isn’t built to accommodate a relationship like ours. We’re taking the hardest path, and I just wonder if one day, one of us might wake up and wish things were easier.

Read, Eat, Love, Dream,

he asked them. “Too long. Don’t be such a stranger. Stop by if you’re in our neighborhood. We would love to sit and chat. We can talk about the good old days and we got lots of pictures and stories from Tuscany.” “Will do. Enjoy the evening.” Jack turned and was face to face with their daughter, Patti. “Hi, Jack,” she whispered. “Great to see you again,” she said and kissed him on the cheek. “It was so good to talk with you the other day. It meant a lot to see you.” He watched her as she started to walk away and turned to him and say, “I wanted to let you know that after we talked I gave my husband a phone call. Eric and I decided to get back together. We’ve shared a lot of history, and we’re at least going to give it one last try to see if we can make it work. Thanks for everything, Jack. Bye.” She kissed him on the cheek. Jack saw Hope walking across the floor. “She’s pretty. Who was that?” glancing at Patti walk away. “An old and dear friend. Both Charley and I had a crush on her when we were younger. I’ll introduce you to her and her mom and dad later. You’ll like her.” More people filed inside to an already full hall. Soon it was standing room only. Jack turned to Hope and whispered, “I can’t believe this. We’ve had over twenty businesses make donations to the veterans’ fund to help support job training and for overseas servicemen’s wives and families. We also got money from the Yankee Bookshop, the Woodstock Inn, the Billings Farm Museum, the bank, and Bentleys Restaurant. They all donated money.” “That’s great,” she said excitedly. “And we’ve received over thirty new membership requests for the Veterans Post and that’s just yesterday. This is better than I ever expected. And four companies have committed to hiring more vets locally, including King Arthur Flour Company. They’re planning to build a new distribution center just west of town. I can’t believe all of this is happening.” “You should,” Hope said. “I remember you sat down right over there at that table and laid out what you wanted to see happen and you kept working on it until it did. I’m so proud of you.” He hugged her close and kissed her. He never wanted to let her go. The distinct fragrance of fresh balsam, pine, and holly filled

I applaud your philanthropic spirit. Truly. And like you, I give all I can spare to my charity of choice. My favourite coffeehouse and bookshop have first claim on my heart - and my purse

When a reader picks up a romance novel they know that happy ending exists. They don’t have to worry about what will happen and they can just get totally immersed in how it happens. Sometimes when life deals you a few blows that kind of thing is important.

It’s elitist to be so snobby about books,” I said. “Just because somebody loves to read romance or crime novels doesn’t mean they don’t also love to read Ovid or Shakespeare or Dickens or McEwan – who all write about love by the way

that doesn’t give you the right to be snobby about genre fiction. Reading is completely subjective and most readers read all kinds of different books. Being a snob about genre is like pretending that reading on e-readers or listening to audiobooks is somehow not proper reading. It’s ridiculous.

Find something true to your spirit and your soul and do it every day.

Well, happy Christmas,” said Carmen. Bronagh frowned again. “It isn’t Christmas, my dear! It’s midwinter! It’s Heliogenna.” “Okay,” said Carmen. “Those bloody Christians. Came along and hijacked everything. It’s all just marketing, you know. Coke marketed Santa Claus. Bloody Christians marketed midwinter.” “Um . . .” said Carmen. “They took the ancient festivals and pretended it was about some . . . ‘baby.’” Bronagh shook her head. “Bloody moneymen ruin everything. Happy solstice!” They chinked goblets.

That’s why you’re not allowed to touch the Christmas trees,” said Phoebe, nodding and carefully moving all the bits of carrot away from the chicken. She had to eat them, but she would put it off to the last possible moment.

No!” said Sofia. “I read! Self-help can be very useful.” She gave her sister a meaningful look. “Really?” said Carmen. “As useful as Rainbow Rowell? Or Douglas Adams? I doubt it.

dark hair in a top knot,

There was a picture of Blair, white teeth gleaming, looking fit in a red jumper and a hat, sitting next to a huge Christmas tree surrounded by cheery multicultural children.

he had been bequeathed a fortune and had run through it all—not by gambling or marrying or living an extravagant life, but simply by not paying attention.

And now we are down to one. One sole reminder of a day when to read books was considered to be the greatest of all achievements; to write and to read the way to a better, more peaceful world.

I feel it is no coincidence that often our worst leaders declare that they read the least.

catholic reader,

To be loved by Heathcliff, to be kissed by him, was to have our souls become one.

Fahrenheit 451 The Brothers Karamazov The Horse and His Boy Unbroken Seabiscuit The Life of Pi Persuasion All the Light We Cannot See Pride and Prejudice The World of Winnie-the-Pooh “To a Mouse” A Christmas Carol A Wrinkle in Time Anne of Green Gables Gone Girl 1984 Inkheart

She was determined that Alice should have what she wanted, and not have any sense of the crisis they were in, so she bought everything on her list to Father Christmas—more than she would usually—and everyone else was going to have books.

He was a man who approved of happy endings. In life itself, you didn't get the chance to choose an ending; but of a writer could give Bob Cratchit a Merry Christmas, then that's what the writer should do.

Street Military Hospital

She gestured toward her daughter. “This strange child of mine wants to have read the entire thing before she turns twenty-one. Okay, I said, she can have the enclyco…encloped…oh, all these reference books, but she won’t be getting any more birthday presents. And nothing for Christmas either.” Perdu acknowledged the seven-year-old girl with a nod. The child nodded earnestly back. “Do you think that’s normal?” the mother asked anxiously. “At her age?” “I think she’s brave, clever and right.” “As long as she doesn’t turn out too smart for men.” “For the stupid ones, she will, Madame. But who wants them anyway? A stupid man is every woman’s downfall.

I think everyone’s a fraud,” she said. Blair blinked. “What do you mean?” “Everyone’s just faking it. Look at the prime minister. Faking it. Look at people who are in charge of things. Faking it, faking it, faking it. Of course you’re faking it. I’m faking it. I don’t know how to run a bookshop. Not the faintest clue. Mr. McCredie doesn’t either. ‘Faking it’ is just another term for being a grown-up. So . . .

Yes, it’s for my Christmas book group! We’re going to meet and discuss the Christmas book for five minutes, then drink mulled wine and eat mince pies until we are sick!

I’m a Quaker. We try to live with”—his hand batted around, as if looking for the right expression—“a kind of . . . gentle grace. Every day. So that we don’t have to make a fuss or make ourselves excited.

I think he’s barely left the house he was born in his whole life. He likes books more than people.

He has, like, a bat cave,” he gasped. “But the bat cave is just, like, moldy old books. That is excellent!”—

I think if anyone were to believe in something more than themselves, if you were to believe in something, I would say it is not unreasonable to think that when you touch a baby’s face you are touching the face of God. Have you ever seen a baby in an old people’s home? They are worshipped. They become divine.

Sometimes,” said Phoebe, “people say ‘be kind’ when they just mean ‘shut up.

All days are special days. Every day we should feel, I hope, a little grace. And we can use it to bring peace in everything we do, to reconcile and bear quiet witness to our common humanity. Sorry. I don’t really have anything special to say . . .” “Actually,” said their mother, “that was perfect.

It’s very hard to storm out properly when there are children,

us all eat better, live better—” “Oh my God, I am surrounded by life improvement experts! It’s doing my head in! I quite like my completely unsuccessful life,

I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday” came on the in-house stereo. “Like that,” he said. “Christmas every day would be hell. It would be torture; it would be awful.

Although often I find in music . . .” “There is, like, divine stuff?

But what is terrible about it doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful.

She supposed it didn’t matter that spider’s webs stretched over every doorframe. Carmen did not like being mean to spiders, which included breaking their homes,

This darkness will not defeat us. Not now, not ever. We will celebrate being halfway out of the dark.

now, in mid-December, it was almost always dark. It was lovely.

Sometimes,” said Phoebe, “people say ‘be kind’ when they just mean ‘shut up.’” The other girls nodded vehemently.

was perfect. Although today, 10 Walker Street looked close to it all the same. Perfectly symmetrical, it sat in a terrace of varying heights, but was one of the smallest houses: three stories in total if you included the basement. It was made of heavy gray sandstone, built in Georgian times at the very far end of the “new” town of Edinburgh (which wasn’t new at all), and it had five perfect twelve-paned windows, like a child’s drawing; a filigree balcony over the upper-story windows; a line of smart stone steps leading up to the front door; and black wrought-iron railings, currently sporting thick vines of entwined holly, lit up with tasteful warm yellow lights, and jaunty red tartan bows. It was like a house on a Christmas card, warm light seeping out from inside onto the freezing pavement and a huge Christmas tree in the same warm lights and red bows on each floor. Two Christmas trees!