Today is Thanksgiving Day here in America. A day we set aside each year to remember the good things we have in life. To honor those who risked everything to seek freedom in a new land. To spend time with family and friends. To indulge our tastebuds with a large meal. And to gather around the TV for a parade, football, and classic movies.
Even if you are not an American, I hope you'll take a few moments to remember the things you are thankful for. I'm thankful for family members who listen to me drone on and on about the book I'm reading, for library cards, for leather bound editions, for old book smells, and for classic stories that change peoples lives. I'm also thankful for each of you who take the time to read my insignificant thoughts on books. Happy Thanksgiving!
…for some of us, books are as important as anything else on earth.
What a miracle it is that out of these small, flat, rigid pieces of
paper unfolds world after world, worlds that sing to you, comfort and
quiet you or excite you. Books help us understand who we are and how we
are to behave. They show us what community and friendship mean; they
show us how to live and die. They are full of the things that you don’t
get in life…wonderful, lyrical language, for instance. And quality of
attention: we may notice amazing details during the course of a day but
we rarely let ourselves stop and really pay attention. An author makes
you notice, makes you pay attention and this is a great gift. My
gratitude for good writing is unbounded; I’m grateful for it the way I’m
grateful for the ocean. -Anne Lamott
2 hours ago