Ned Hayes's Blog, page 96
June 5, 2014
"I love the solitude of reading. I love the deep dive into someone else’s story, the delicious ache..."
- Naomi Shihab Nye (via fuckyeahreading)
June 4, 2014
Staff Pick - SINFUL FOLK
Indie Bookstore Fireside Books in Palmer Alaska (where I lived for a summer in 1985) just picked SINFUL FOLK as a “Staff Pick.”
Thank you! Marvelous review too!
"I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than..."
- Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice (via simplybookdrunk)
"Years into days.
Days into hours.
Hours into minutes.
Minutes into moments.
Moments into..."
Days into hours.
Hours into minutes.
Minutes into moments.
Moments into possibility.”
- The Realm of Possibility (via okiedokiesmokey)
June 3, 2014
"I open my eyes, and look out through the open hole in the roof....
"I open my eyes, and look out through the open hole in the roof. The swallows wisk back and forth in the light of dawn, tiny black cracks against a bright blue sky. I am alive: no one took my life in the night. I smell my fellows, and the musty smell of straw in this little croft, the sharp stink of the horses outside, hobbled near at hand."
— from the novel Sinful Folk
"Stars steam away as a pale sun rises, hot coal dropped in a...
"Stars steam away as a pale sun rises, hot coal dropped in a watery sky. Light seeps across the forest as the reedy shrieks of wood fowl echo in the trees. The path from our village to the King’s Highway is a crooked line of mud rutted with cart tracks, a rough trough where the dirty snow is stabbed through by the hooves of feral sheep. To the east, that faint track leads up through the forest until it reaches, finally, the open country."
PHOTO: woodendreams: (by Zeb Andrews)
June 2, 2014
"Spring grew into summer, and the rhythm of my life now included...
"Spring grew into summer, and the rhythm of my life now included Nell. I carried Christian with me as I gathered sticks, piling branches into the bundles I carried on my back to the village that night. Nell’s secret thyme beds and her mint were deep in the woods, out by the chuckling stream that disappeared underground. She danced in the sunlight and the shade."
"They arced their axes into the base, snapping the wood away in clean white wounds. The trees gave..."
- Bill Cheng, SOUTHERN CROSS THE DOG (via fromouryoungdays)
June 1, 2014
bookishthingsblog:
Ever wondered how the books you read are...
Ever wondered how the books you read are made? Birth of a Book is a quick look at the fascinating and still surprisingly manual art of printing and bookbinding.
"Cold tears as salty as ocean spray wet my face. I remember the...
"Cold tears as salty as ocean spray wet my face. I remember the day before she died, my mother took me out in our little fishing boat, out on the open water of the sea—the thrum and hiss of surf upon the shore behind us, the rhythm never ceasing. And she taught me something: strange and secret words in a foreign tongue, a lilting singsong cadence to it."
