Love Reading Books Mga Nobela at Kwento

“I know what you mean. I had one too—it was a family outing for us, going to the library. My mom insisted my brother and I read books if we wanted to play video games. I was that nerdy kid who actually preferred reading to gaming. I guess it carried over into adulthood.” Fiona’s gaze focused on his face, and one side of her mouth smirked. “Nothing wrong with that.” Handing the book back to him, she continued to investigate the books lining the shelves. “Do you have a favorite in here or in one of the boxes?” Chris chuckled. “Well, having a degree in English Literature, you’d think so. But I love so many of them. I’m partial to the classics—Keats and Shelley, Lord Byron, Shakespeare…”

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It makes you feel like you belong. This is also why I love reading—it keeps me engaged, gives my mind something to do, and, honestly, it prevents boredom from creeping in. Then, there’s a knock on the door. I feel a little caught off guard, so I lean over to grab my glass of wine again, thinking it’ll make me seem like a businesswoman—like I’ve got everything together. But in my haste to put it back on the coffee table, I almost spill it all over my sleepwear. My legs, still crossed, scramble to readjust.

~QUINN~ My eyes staying focused on nothing else, I flipped to the next page. While Gwen busied herself in the living room, I lay on the bed enjoying the silence in the bedroom that made for a perfect opportunity to enjoy one of my favourite hobbies. Reading. Being a bookworm, despite how I may appear to people, was one of the best traits I appreciated. There was something about burying my nose in the pages of a book that soothed my mind. It took my imaginations to a world. A world free of worries.

I don't have a single book with me but that doesn't bother me. I can sleep when I get to the library. I step into the library and immediately feel self-conscious. I can't sleep, not with everyone bending over a book as if they are trying to stop a nuclear war. I stand by the bookshelf, hardly seeing the book and debating going back home. Another Friday night spent alone doesn't excite me. “Having trouble picking what you want?” A voice drawls behind me. I startle and gasp as I turn back. Zane.

I wanted him to get back his life so I can go live mine. Feeling bored, I slid into my book and off my E-library. I might be a high school dropout but I knew how to read and I loved to read. Especially romance books. I clicked on a book and started reading. “Oh giving it to the manwhore, I’ve read it, Melissa died.” Mona suddenly said, peering into my phone. I glanced at her, surprised that she seemed to like reading romance books too. I thought an Iron Lady like her might only like reading horror, action or crime based books

It's too late". * Did I mention that I'm a devoted reader? No? Perhaps this is one of the explanations for why I "found" myself in writing, even though I am passionate about numbers. I love reading, everything, especially novels and science fiction. But this is not a passion understood by everyone, and in a discussion with a co-worker, this text came up. He hates books and I've thought him a bit psycho ever since. Letter to the insane (by books) "There are people who will never understand. And as they say nowadays, in a fad, "it's okay" because, in fact, no one is obliged. Neither to understand nor to like. I'm talking about these crazy people, in love with books.

Hopefully one or two things will catch your fancy in the matter of character adjustments and or hope for survival. I am a bookworm, a book lover I mean. I've always been one right from kindergarten. I read so much books I felt I would explode one day if I didn't stop. I didn't stop, and I also did not explode. Instead, they made me smarter. I read mystery books, thrillers and fantasies or general kid books. I read teen fiction too but I stayed away from horror. Mom bought me all of my books. I've got at least seventy books in my bookshelf and mom got them all for me. It was not a problem for her at all.

༻☆✫☆༺ In the cozy library, filled with soft whispers and the charming aroma of old books, the usual tranquility held sway. It was a haven for diligent students, their heads buried in textbooks as they chased after knowledge and good grades among the comforting stacks of dusty tomes. However, Katherine didn’t quite fit the mold. Numbers and historical facts weren’t what excited her; her heart craved the enchanting worlds of romance and adventure found within novels. Every free moment, when she wasn’t wallowing in dismay over her less-than-stellar academic performance, was spent here, browsing the shelves for a story that would whisk her away completely.