People with books and papercuts. Awkward old men with awkward confused stares at computer screens. Old ladies sniveling at patrons who won’t observe the quiet ambiance. Panic attack.
i should’ve gone here today. ollie didnt call or text or message and i was stuck suspended in the skypetumblrfacebook rotation of mundane thought and i feel guilty. it’s my fault. i should have taken the inititaive, if not to contact him (im lying i did) then to get my work done. but i didnt and now i’m here, working up my wpm count and watchg dad watch tv
libraries are full of so many wonderful magical things. not just books. books are kind of like a magic wand and the result is the magic of the library. the people, their stories, that’s the magic. why they like those books, why the sit in that chair, it’s all magic.
The library is a place to read books, study for classes, and simply just relax. I spend much of my time there after class. I would like to be able to say that but I think I just lied. i did spend much of my time there but then I got a job..
The library is a place to read books, study for classes, and simply just relax. I spend much of my time there after class. I would like to be able to say that but I think I just lied. i did spend much of my time there but then I got a job..
Such a beautiful place; where else do you have the ability to explore every subject and every ‘world’? It’s underrated which means even hipsters can love it! Even though we don’t love them. Come to the library because honestly, do you have anything better to do with that miserable existence of yours?
I quite like the library; it’s always a lovely relaxing place. It comensates for my lack of friends, instead of going out and socialising I instead choose to drown my sorrow in rows and rows of words. Not twilight though, that’s like drowning in hobo shit. Anyway, the point is I like the library because it makes me feel less lonely.
She sits quietly in the library, listening to the sound of pages being turned. Pages turned, lessons learned. There is a myriad of lessons to learn in this collection of literary classics, if only people were willing to explore it. She knows she isn’t the smartest individual on the planet, but she frequents the library not for acquiring intelligence but for studying the past and anticipating the future. She desires not now but what had happened and what shall.
quiet. where are you going? to the library (funny bar names for Ryan and Cole). I think of Marian the Librarian from The Music Man. I think of what bitches our “media center specialists” are. haha, so this thing can TOTALLY be outsmarted cause all you have to do is hit the back button and you’ll have the same amount of time again, and I guess you can do that as many times as you want. I guess that defeats the purpose, but the system can be beaten. And really you can take all the time you want because right now I’m typing after the time has been called….I get the point of this, but it’s not quite the same when you know you will have the extra time.
i was in the library, it was dark and there was nobody around. suddenly the books all disappeared, even the one that i was holding in front of my meloncholy face.
i slowed, stopped and turned only to find that i was not alone in this library but in fact my memories and secrets had followed me all the way here.
Once, long ago, In a town called Mulingar, Ireland, there lived a young girl named Kella. She was an odd girl, quiet, soft-spoken, and shy. She loved reading, writing and staying indoors. Her favorite library was called Gardison Library. She walked down to the library every day, following school. She’d walk through the giant doors, and down the marble hallways, to her favorite reading nook, looking at all the books on the tall shelves. “Good afternoon, Kella.” Smiled Mrs. Brink, the cheery librarian. “Afternoon, Mrs. Brink.” Said Kella. Mrs. Brink loved seeing Kella in the library everyday, She was her favorite. “What are you reading today?” Asked Mrs. Brink with a smile. “Pride and Prejudice.” stated Kella. “Really?” said Mrs. Brink, with a quizical look on her face, “Such a mature read for such a young lady.” “It is, isn’t it.” smirked Kella. She liked to feel grown up and mature. “Good day, Mrs. Brink.” Said Kella as she walked off. “Good day, Kella!” replied the smiling old lady. She continued on down the hall, and arrived at her predetermined location, her favorite reading nook. Kella sat down on the cushioned window ledge, and suddenly yelled out with a loud “Ouch!” She looked down upon her seat and saw a small silver magnifying glass. “I wonder who could have left this here?” Kella picked up the dainty object and stared at it intently. She turned towards the window, light streaming in, and stared through the magnifying glass. “What is going on!?” she shrieked. She dropped the silver wonder, in fear of what she saw through the looking glass. Kella looked through the window again, “Why it’s the same as it was before!” She was shocked, she couldn’t fathom what was happening. “I’ll try again.” She was determined to figure out this great mystery. Kella looked through the glass again, and found that the great Oak tree, which she lovingly named Frederick, had turned into a great purple flower, and Rosetta the rose bush had turned into a giant red speckled mushroom! “Oh wonder of wonders!” she thought. ‘I just don’t understand.” She put the looking glass down into the pocket of her green wool coat, and thought that she must, no she had to have been hallucinating! No way was Frederick a flower, and no way was Rosetta a mushroom! “Well, I must take my mind off of this.” So she picked up her book, and began to read.
The selection of books in the library was overwhelming and he didn’t know where to begin. He scanned over rows and rows of books, carelessly judging each one by its cover. He had no regrets about this – although he did leave empty-handed. His selection had been vast, but his choices limited. He would have to check somewhere else.
When I go top the library, I tend to have my plan at hand before I proceed to go. It is okay for to to tell you now that that was probably a lie and that I probably wound up there in a drunken stupor instead…
Beneath the labyrinth of my being, at the locus of my beauty, there is the impetus: a sacred library. I visit noble books written centuries ago like gravestones and I place on them a flower from my heart. Sometimes I write the author reviews, or love letters…and I send them over the cliff into the sea like ash.
I spend a lot more time in my own library than anyone else I’ve known. A personal library that I’ve stored literary works in for nearly centuries now, all collected and hand-picked carefully, each word and page and book and selection and sub-group and group to its own purpose and reason for being included. I love it, and everything of me reflects as such. Within the boundless realms of my imagination, it is my home away from physical burdens and mundane distractions. As I sleep, it is added to, and during my waking hours it is organized and edited as to keep a neat collection of chaotic grace and relief. Such a trifling idea of “library fees” are nonexistent, partially due to how I actually have fees still in need of payment at libraries near me, but mostly because charging such inconsistent and impermanent currency for /ideas/ is ridiculous in every sense.
the library has been the source of so much stimulation in my life. i stand at the front desk, checking in people’s books and you never know who might walk through the door. sometimes, the people i see bring me dread, others give me butterflies. the stacks, oh the beautiful stacks. books just waiting to be opened and devoured.
There I sat in a chair surrounded by boks that had so many stories to tell and lessons to teach. I stared at the table next to me. There was a bowl of peppermints and a blue cloth and a hardback book with a soft red cover and golden words written in a strange language.
I love the library. Books everywhere. It’s just beautiful. The smell of new books. It’s perfect. Perfect doesn’t even describe it. It’s heaven on earth. I don’t know where I would be without the library, it’s my life.
Beneath the labyrinth of my being, at the locus of my beauty, there is the impetus: a sacred library. I visit noble books written centuries ago like gravestones and I place on them a flower from my heart. Sometimes I write the author reviews, or love letters…and I send them over the cliff into the sea like ash.
Beneath the labyrinth of my being, at the locus of my beauty, there is the impetus, a sacred library. I visit noble books written centuries ago like gravestones and I place on them a flower from my heart. Sometimes I write the author reviews, or love letters, and I send them over the cliff into the sea like ash.
It was a day of unforgettable knowledge a day that everyone could learn and have all the same information at there finger tips. There was no false information… Only white lies until the library burnt down and technology put out the fire.
books. this makes me think of my childhood. i used to always go to the library with my mom and get loads of books and she would read them to me and my brother at night on our big chair. ameilia bedilia was my favorite…i don’t know how to spell that. those were the best nights ever. i miss when we were all really close like that, a lot.
The library is where knowledge is, it’s where people go to learn and to explore the unknown. To me the library is a place of wonder, a place of untold stories that serve to brighten the universe with unlimited potential. The world is a complex place and it all begins within a library.
Hard-soled shoes tapped across the tile floor. I tried not to hyperventilate as I heard them come closer, and closer…. then pause. As inconspicuously as I could, I slipped around a towering bookshelf, trying to put more distance between whoever they had sent and myself. As it turned out, the library was full of excellent hiding places.
Era una noche como las otras, había algo sutil y tierno en el aire. Ella tenía ganas de besarlo y acariciarlo. Prefería escribir un cadáver exquisito, como antes, como la primera vez.
the library is a fun place. you can go and just read your heart out and escape in a book and just stay frozen for hours. it’s an amazing thing if you really think about it. Libraries are also a good place to meet up and do homework. over all libraries are good
All the books, and yet there is no room for learning among those shelves. I must bring that myself, and cultivate such from the pages. I must use the words wisely, and create what will be my future from all of the words strung together to form the books that, despite meaning nothing without me, mean everything to what will be.
I’m sitting in the quiet, a book in front of me, but I read the same sentence over and over again. In the 18th century German nuns did what? I can’t remember because in my mind, I’m fucking you. I’m listening to you fucking him. I’m taking his place. I’m showing you that I’m a better lover.
I have to piss. I stare at the blank Word Document. It’s far too quiet in here. Amid the coughing and furious typing and someone’s stupid kids screaming their heads off, I think that this is the most deafening silence I have ever heard. So quiet, I can’t even think.
I love libraries. They are so amazing. I just love the atmosphere, it’s so nice and bookish. i love the smell of books and I love how quiet it is there. iT MAKES ME FEEL SO PEACEFUL AND I CAN JUST FEEL BETTER ABOUT MYSELF. It’s like a second home to me. If I had the choice, then I would live in a library.
libraries are magical places. you can travel to millions of worlds and dimensions without spending a dime. they’re full of mystery, adventure, love, and romance all at once but in the confines of someplace safe. they are homes and sanctuaries.
A place where learning and knowledge are combined to give humans intellect and the ability to judge the world around them. A place of solitude and quiet contempt. Studying and Reading are both done here, as well as relaxing.
It was a library. It was a room full of books, it was a tribute to the glint in his eyes and the flesh of his stomach. The almost-brown of his hair. The sea green of his eyes and the gray of his fingertips. It was a volume of books in alphabetical order and they all wrote his smile in my mouth. They all wrote his name.
where books live, words are written and read. where silence is expected, where music and words are a burden. where knowledge is everywhere. where everyone is welcome.
People with books and papercuts. Awkward old men with awkward confused stares at computer screens. Old ladies sniveling at patrons who won’t observe the quiet ambiance. Panic attack.
This library is mine…get out!
Don’t pretend you love the literature.
That’s a low blow taking away the only thing that’s ever been mine
i should’ve gone here today. ollie didnt call or text or message and i was stuck suspended in the skypetumblrfacebook rotation of mundane thought and i feel guilty. it’s my fault. i should have taken the inititaive, if not to contact him (im lying i did) then to get my work done. but i didnt and now i’m here, working up my wpm count and watchg dad watch tv
libraries are full of so many wonderful magical things. not just books. books are kind of like a magic wand and the result is the magic of the library. the people, their stories, that’s the magic. why they like those books, why the sit in that chair, it’s all magic.
The library is a place to read books, study for classes, and simply just relax. I spend much of my time there after class. I would like to be able to say that but I think I just lied. i did spend much of my time there but then I got a job..
The library is a place to read books, study for classes, and simply just relax. I spend much of my time there after class. I would like to be able to say that but I think I just lied. i did spend much of my time there but then I got a job..
Such a beautiful place; where else do you have the ability to explore every subject and every ‘world’? It’s underrated which means even hipsters can love it! Even though we don’t love them. Come to the library because honestly, do you have anything better to do with that miserable existence of yours?
I quite like the library; it’s always a lovely relaxing place. It comensates for my lack of friends, instead of going out and socialising I instead choose to drown my sorrow in rows and rows of words. Not twilight though, that’s like drowning in hobo shit. Anyway, the point is I like the library because it makes me feel less lonely.
She sits quietly in the library, listening to the sound of pages being turned. Pages turned, lessons learned. There is a myriad of lessons to learn in this collection of literary classics, if only people were willing to explore it. She knows she isn’t the smartest individual on the planet, but she frequents the library not for acquiring intelligence but for studying the past and anticipating the future. She desires not now but what had happened and what shall.
quiet. where are you going? to the library (funny bar names for Ryan and Cole). I think of Marian the Librarian from The Music Man. I think of what bitches our “media center specialists” are. haha, so this thing can TOTALLY be outsmarted cause all you have to do is hit the back button and you’ll have the same amount of time again, and I guess you can do that as many times as you want. I guess that defeats the purpose, but the system can be beaten. And really you can take all the time you want because right now I’m typing after the time has been called….I get the point of this, but it’s not quite the same when you know you will have the extra time.
place where v find not only books but also lovers in our collg… real fun time spent there.
i was in the library, it was dark and there was nobody around. suddenly the books all disappeared, even the one that i was holding in front of my meloncholy face.
i slowed, stopped and turned only to find that i was not alone in this library but in fact my memories and secrets had followed me all the way here.
A library of useless facts Unlocked and frozen Until they’re not needed, And until they have nothing To teach. I wait in vain for something unknown.
Once, long ago, In a town called Mulingar, Ireland, there lived a young girl named Kella. She was an odd girl, quiet, soft-spoken, and shy. She loved reading, writing and staying indoors. Her favorite library was called Gardison Library. She walked down to the library every day, following school. She’d walk through the giant doors, and down the marble hallways, to her favorite reading nook, looking at all the books on the tall shelves. “Good afternoon, Kella.” Smiled Mrs. Brink, the cheery librarian. “Afternoon, Mrs. Brink.” Said Kella. Mrs. Brink loved seeing Kella in the library everyday, She was her favorite. “What are you reading today?” Asked Mrs. Brink with a smile. “Pride and Prejudice.” stated Kella. “Really?” said Mrs. Brink, with a quizical look on her face, “Such a mature read for such a young lady.” “It is, isn’t it.” smirked Kella. She liked to feel grown up and mature. “Good day, Mrs. Brink.” Said Kella as she walked off. “Good day, Kella!” replied the smiling old lady. She continued on down the hall, and arrived at her predetermined location, her favorite reading nook. Kella sat down on the cushioned window ledge, and suddenly yelled out with a loud “Ouch!” She looked down upon her seat and saw a small silver magnifying glass. “I wonder who could have left this here?” Kella picked up the dainty object and stared at it intently. She turned towards the window, light streaming in, and stared through the magnifying glass. “What is going on!?” she shrieked. She dropped the silver wonder, in fear of what she saw through the looking glass. Kella looked through the window again, “Why it’s the same as it was before!” She was shocked, she couldn’t fathom what was happening. “I’ll try again.” She was determined to figure out this great mystery. Kella looked through the glass again, and found that the great Oak tree, which she lovingly named Frederick, had turned into a great purple flower, and Rosetta the rose bush had turned into a giant red speckled mushroom! “Oh wonder of wonders!” she thought. ‘I just don’t understand.” She put the looking glass down into the pocket of her green wool coat, and thought that she must, no she had to have been hallucinating! No way was Frederick a flower, and no way was Rosetta a mushroom! “Well, I must take my mind off of this.” So she picked up her book, and began to read.
The selection of books in the library was overwhelming and he didn’t know where to begin. He scanned over rows and rows of books, carelessly judging each one by its cover. He had no regrets about this – although he did leave empty-handed. His selection had been vast, but his choices limited. He would have to check somewhere else.
When I go top the library, I tend to have my plan at hand before I proceed to go. It is okay for to to tell you now that that was probably a lie and that I probably wound up there in a drunken stupor instead…
Beneath the labyrinth of my being, at the locus of my beauty, there is the impetus: a sacred library. I visit noble books written centuries ago like gravestones and I place on them a flower from my heart. Sometimes I write the author reviews, or love letters…and I send them over the cliff into the sea like ash.
I spend a lot more time in my own library than anyone else I’ve known. A personal library that I’ve stored literary works in for nearly centuries now, all collected and hand-picked carefully, each word and page and book and selection and sub-group and group to its own purpose and reason for being included. I love it, and everything of me reflects as such. Within the boundless realms of my imagination, it is my home away from physical burdens and mundane distractions. As I sleep, it is added to, and during my waking hours it is organized and edited as to keep a neat collection of chaotic grace and relief. Such a trifling idea of “library fees” are nonexistent, partially due to how I actually have fees still in need of payment at libraries near me, but mostly because charging such inconsistent and impermanent currency for /ideas/ is ridiculous in every sense.
the library has been the source of so much stimulation in my life. i stand at the front desk, checking in people’s books and you never know who might walk through the door. sometimes, the people i see bring me dread, others give me butterflies. the stacks, oh the beautiful stacks. books just waiting to be opened and devoured.
The library is a place of imagination. A place where people go to find out new things about themselves and to explore their interests. I lo
There I sat in a chair surrounded by boks that had so many stories to tell and lessons to teach. I stared at the table next to me. There was a bowl of peppermints and a blue cloth and a hardback book with a soft red cover and golden words written in a strange language.
I love the library. Books everywhere. It’s just beautiful. The smell of new books. It’s perfect. Perfect doesn’t even describe it. It’s heaven on earth. I don’t know where I would be without the library, it’s my life.
Beneath the labyrinth of my being, at the locus of my beauty, there is the impetus: a sacred library. I visit noble books written centuries ago like gravestones and I place on them a flower from my heart. Sometimes I write the author reviews, or love letters…and I send them over the cliff into the sea like ash.
Beneath the labyrinth of my being, at the locus of my beauty, there is the impetus, a sacred library. I visit noble books written centuries ago like gravestones and I place on them a flower from my heart. Sometimes I write the author reviews, or love letters, and I send them over the cliff into the sea like ash.
It was a day of unforgettable knowledge a day that everyone could learn and have all the same information at there finger tips. There was no false information… Only white lies until the library burnt down and technology put out the fire.
We had to go to library, even on weekends. Her head was bent down, hair in her face, a pile of books higher then her head.
books. this makes me think of my childhood. i used to always go to the library with my mom and get loads of books and she would read them to me and my brother at night on our big chair. ameilia bedilia was my favorite…i don’t know how to spell that. those were the best nights ever. i miss when we were all really close like that, a lot.
The library is where knowledge is, it’s where people go to learn and to explore the unknown. To me the library is a place of wonder, a place of untold stories that serve to brighten the universe with unlimited potential. The world is a complex place and it all begins within a library.
Hard-soled shoes tapped across the tile floor. I tried not to hyperventilate as I heard them come closer, and closer…. then pause. As inconspicuously as I could, I slipped around a towering bookshelf, trying to put more distance between whoever they had sent and myself. As it turned out, the library was full of excellent hiding places.
Era una noche como las otras, había algo sutil y tierno en el aire. Ella tenía ganas de besarlo y acariciarlo. Prefería escribir un cadáver exquisito, como antes, como la primera vez.
the library is a fun place. you can go and just read your heart out and escape in a book and just stay frozen for hours. it’s an amazing thing if you really think about it. Libraries are also a good place to meet up and do homework. over all libraries are good
All the books, and yet there is no room for learning among those shelves. I must bring that myself, and cultivate such from the pages. I must use the words wisely, and create what will be my future from all of the words strung together to form the books that, despite meaning nothing without me, mean everything to what will be.
I’m sitting in the quiet, a book in front of me, but I read the same sentence over and over again. In the 18th century German nuns did what? I can’t remember because in my mind, I’m fucking you. I’m listening to you fucking him. I’m taking his place. I’m showing you that I’m a better lover.
I have to piss. I stare at the blank Word Document. It’s far too quiet in here. Amid the coughing and furious typing and someone’s stupid kids screaming their heads off, I think that this is the most deafening silence I have ever heard. So quiet, I can’t even think.
I love libraries. They are so amazing. I just love the atmosphere, it’s so nice and bookish. i love the smell of books and I love how quiet it is there. iT MAKES ME FEEL SO PEACEFUL AND I CAN JUST FEEL BETTER ABOUT MYSELF. It’s like a second home to me. If I had the choice, then I would live in a library.
libraries are magical places. you can travel to millions of worlds and dimensions without spending a dime. they’re full of mystery, adventure, love, and romance all at once but in the confines of someplace safe. they are homes and sanctuaries.
A place where learning and knowledge are combined to give humans intellect and the ability to judge the world around them. A place of solitude and quiet contempt. Studying and Reading are both done here, as well as relaxing.
The library held me between its shelves,
Put me in my section
According to my content.
Although Being, put in my place, can hurt
It helps to know who I am
Between my exterior covers.
It was a library. It was a room full of books, it was a tribute to the glint in his eyes and the flesh of his stomach. The almost-brown of his hair. The sea green of his eyes and the gray of his fingertips. It was a volume of books in alphabetical order and they all wrote his smile in my mouth. They all wrote his name.
where books live, words are written and read. where silence is expected, where music and words are a burden. where knowledge is everywhere. where everyone is welcome.