Think Like Man Book Novels & Stories

I preferred my books to people, and my imaginations to reality. One evening, as I was casually returning back a stack of books to the shelves, my eyes scanning the names for their proper places, I noticed a man sitting in the far corner of the library. He was deeply focused on a large, ancient-looking book, his brow furrowed in concentration. I paused, looking at him curiously, and I found myself stealing glances at him, intrigued by his presence and level of concentration in my peaceful domain.

At Lorenzo beside her with his too-strong coffee looking at the estate he had built and was now rebuilding into something different. She thought about her father saying the most dangerous men were the ones who were also good. She thought about her mother saying he looks at you the way your father looked at me in the beginning. She thought about sixty-one chapters of the most complicated and costly and clarifying thing she had ever done. She looked at the book. At the faded blue cover. At the bookmark in the same place so long it had left a mark. She thought about marks left by things. About what persisted. She closed the book.

he noted, tilting one up. "Gifts from people who clearly don't know me. The man is far too problematic for my taste." I shrugged. "But I have a rule against throwing away books." He studied the shelves a moment longer, taking in the beautiful, chaotic mess of my mind. "This is..." A low laugh, shaking his head. "To anyone else, this must look completely random." "Guilty." "It's so you, though," he said softly, sliding the biography back like it was made of glass. "Makes no sense to the world until you shed some light on it."

“There are some things written there that will help you understand your new self.” “That huge book? Reading it sounds stressful already.” “The book just looks big,” the man smirked and he got up as well, “but the contents only fill the first few pages. The remaining pages are blank.” Zara frowned. At that point, to her, everything about that realm was confusing and unnecessarily extra. As she scoffed, she asked, “Why would anyone make such a page? The writer could have just packaged the first few pages and saved paper.”

This was the walk towards freedom, a life changing opportunity to help me through this predicament, a chance to save myself and the world, a chance to make Leonard or Dave pay for every one of his crimes. Redeeming the society and building a new democratic system that would make the masses run smoothly was the goal. Everything was now clear, the man who wrote the book was also the man whose story was written in it, a vicious cycle that no one wants to live in anymore death and birth was a cycle that revolved and made the world a place suitable to live in but the maniac was obstructing the rule of nature, this was a the life we all lived. Pain, suffering, oppression and death was the order of

I even found the karma sutra amongst what I can only classify as the ‘self help’ section, opening it and then quickly closing it in case Enzo or his mother entered the room. A large book at the end of the shelf entitled “The Power and Responsibility of Men” caught my eye. It seemed to be more weathered than the rest of the books, but I didn't get why. “Who would be drawn to a book like that?” I asked myself, pulling it from the shelf.

I read ' The Last Good Man ' by Patience Swift in my first year in college. What had attracted me to the book was the name - The Last Good Man. I couldn't agree more with Patience Swift that Sam was literally the last good man on earth because it was obvious that the earth was becoming something else. In fact, at the time, I concluded that he was the last man, the rest of us living on planet earth were animals, and the wild ones preyed on the domestic ones. It was evident in everyday life that there were two factions in the world; the predators, and the prey, and every prey was trying so hard to become a predator, while the predators were still on their toes, lest they fall from their status

I blushed, shook my head, and cleared my throat. “I mean, I’ve been planning to give you since you solved the assignment. The book is very important, it costs the owner’s life.” “What?” he asked in surprise. He’s too young to know the story of the book. The book isn’t popular because it’s the author’s first book. He was a psychologist and also labelled a psychopath. What he wrote in the book was facts about human nature, how to read people and how to make them respect you at all costs as their boss.

But the one who borrowed the books from the library is still unknown so I thought we should be familiar with him first later if I get time or if my mood says to me so I will reveal our villain but till that patience would be great for everyone. I wonder how a man in the age of his half from the total would look like, well I know but a man who reads books by stealing them from the libraries in the name of trust and using the term that I'm borrowing it from you and I'll return on time is such a shame and myth for me because I want to research on humans a lot to know them. But despite that I think this man is strange and cool in a different aspect.

I bit my lower lip and shook my head off gently before continuing to read the art book. As I start reading the book, something flashes in my mind. I immediately take it out of my mind. Why would I think about that thing, that man? But I just can't stop myself from thinking about the man who I helped the last week. I wonder where he is now. He just left without giving me a notice. But other than that I can't still forget the fear I feel every time I remember the man I helped before.