There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: thos — Marcel Proust
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There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them: those we spent with a favourite book.

— Marcel Proust
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More “Books” Quotes

As a boy, I used to marvel that the letters in a closed book did not get scrambled and lost overnight. — Jose Luis Borges
I am completely unflustered by whichever medium people choose to read my words. I'm just delighted they're reading them — Sara Sheridan
I want to say more, but don't know what the words are supposed to be. I feel such a tenderness for these vulnerable nigh — David Levithan, Every Day
A librarian had found the baby sitting abandoned on the sheer edge of the world; the librarians kept her. That proved sh — Patricia A. McKillip, Alphabet of Thorn
Words have power, you understand? It is in the nature of our universe. Our library itself distorts time and space on qui — Terry Pratchett, Going Postal
I had a cousin once who lived in your dictionary, inside the binding, and there was a tiny hole which he used for a door — Janet Frame, Scented Gardens for the Blind
The keeping of lists was for November an exercise kin to repeating of a rosary. She considered it neither obsessive nor — Catherynne M. Valente, Palimpsest
I like the sounds of words. Words are very enjoyable. I like words because they are... seductive. And I like words becau — James Lusarde, The Train of Arousal
Words have always swirled around me like snowflakes-each one delicate and different, each one melting untouched in my ha — Sharon M. Draper, Out of My Mind
Whether the underlying cause of your dependency is a chemical imbalance, unresolved events from the past, beliefs you ho — Chris Prentiss, The Alcoholism and Addiction Cure
The genre of self-help for depression is littered with well-intentioned books that overpraise solutions and raise false — Jonathan Rottenberg, The Depths: The Evolutionary Origins of the Depression Epidemic
It...whatever 'it' is, has swallowed me and I lie here in the pit of its cold dark stomach being eaten alive by its bile — Kellie Elmore, Jagged Little Pieces