Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Rosie Hardy

Web | Flickr

(Source: bookporn)


teachingliteracy:

Saint-Ouen Book Pile (by Little Ayun)

teachingliteracy:

Saint-Ouen Book Pile (by Little Ayun)


Tuesday, August 19, 2014

scholasticreadingclub:

nationalbook:

Words only book lovers truly understand.

This is the truth!



Sunday, August 17, 2014
The End Games by T. Michael Martin 

The End Games by T. Michael Martin 

(Source: ubercreatures)


Thursday, August 14, 2014

When I’m reading a really great book and it’s like 2am and I can’t put it down because there are only a few chapters left and I’m getting kinda delirious but who even cares because everything is …

image


Tuesday, August 12, 2014

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
                         But O heart! heart! heart!
                            O the bleeding drops of red,
                               Where on the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
                         Here Captain! dear father!
                            The arm beneath your head!
                               It is some dream that on the deck,
                                 You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
                         Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
                            But I with mournful tread,
                               Walk the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
                         But O heart! heart! heart!
                            O the bleeding drops of red,
                               Where on the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
                         Here Captain! dear father!
                            The arm beneath your head!
                               It is some dream that on the deck,
                                 You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
                         Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
                            But I with mournful tread,
                               Walk the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.


Saturday, August 9, 2014

When you don’t want a book to end:


Thursday, August 7, 2014

(Source: pinterest.com)



There are good books which are only for adults.
There are no good books which are only for children.
W.H. Auden (via observando)

Wednesday, August 6, 2014


Sunday, August 3, 2014