Disappear in books. Come back as something better.

People aren't books. You can't bookmark your favourite pages to return to whenever you're feeling lonely; when the nights are too cold and you need something familiar to keep you warm, you can't reopen their spines and wear out their pages and call that obsession love.

Don't judge me by the number of books I sold...Judge me, by what I write...

Your eyes, what a collection of pain and smiles, of oceans and chaos, of books and worn out hearts, of too many I love you held in hands...

A house that has books has hope.

Instead of flowers gifted her rare books.

Books brought me places and writing kept me in place.

Brush the dust off her covers and kiss her pages so well that she forgets all the time you've been ignoring her.

You won't be able to forget me, I have books published in my name.