YouMe&Words
This is just a small space for lovers of literature, run by two book sniffers. If you are a fellow book sniffer, welcome :) This blog will probably contain the following: Book Reviews, Poems, Quotes and Writing. Follow for a sprinkle of Shakespeare, ramblings, Sylvia Plath, John Green, quotes, J.K Rowling etc etc :)
"Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader — not the fact that it is raining, but the feeling of being rained upon."
♥ 7
→ 18 May 12 at 10 am
→ 18 May 12 at 10 am
BOOK GIVEAWAY?
Today Dee and I realised that we’re book hoarders. We have lots of books (some which we haven’t even read yet :O) and we have multiple copies of the same books. So we decided to host our first giveaway on tumblr.
The two books up for grabs this time is the classic Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte and the thrilling City of Bones (first book from the Mortal Instruments series) by Cassandra Clare. Both books aren’t new and there are some signs of wear with Wuthering Heights having a fold in the crease, but they’re in pretty good condition and are readable and smell fab!
The rules are pretty simple pimple:
1) You should be following us
2) Reblog this post to enter and state at the bottom, which book you would like
3) Only UK residents please, sorry but we’re just students and can’t afford international shipping :(
The giveaway will close on the 1st of June at 8:00pm and we’ll use a random generator to pick two winners.
Aurevoir :)
To Anne Boleyn
My Mistress and My Friend:
My heart and I surrender themselves into your hands, and we supplicate to be commanded into your good graces, and that by absence your affections may not be diminished to us, for that would be to augment our pain, which would be a great pity, since absence gives enough, and more than I ever thought could be felt. This brings to my mind a fact from astronomy, which is, that the further the poles are from the sun, notwithstanding, the more scorching is the heat. Thus is it with our love; absence has been placed between us, nevertheless fervor increases — at least on my part. I hope the same from you, assuring you that in my case the anguish of absence is so great that it would be intolerable were it not for the firm hope I have of your indissoluble affection towards me. In order to remind you of it, and because I cannot in person be in your presence, I send you the thing which comes nearest that is possible, that is to say, my picture, and the whole device, wishing myself in their place when it pleases you. This is from the hand of
Your servant and friend,
H.R.
In Love Letters of Great Men and Women
I got my copy from Ebay for a pretty good price!
♥ 33
→ 13 May 12 at 11 am
→ 13 May 12 at 11 am
“So after, when he whispers, “You love me. Real or not real?”
I tell him, “Real.”
"If there’s a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it."
To Kill a Mockingbird- Harper Lee
Harry Potter series- J.K. Rowling
The Perks of Being a Wallflower- Stephen Chbosky
Jane Eyre- Charlotte Bronte
The Hunger Games- Suzanne Collins
The Catcher in the Rye- J.D. Salinger
The Beautiful and Damned- F.Scott Fitzgerald
The Handmaid’s Tale- Margaret Atwood
Memoirs of a Geisha- Arthur Golden
The Virgin Suicides- Jeffrey Eugenides
Looking for Alaska- John Green
Peter Pan- J.M. Barrie
The Lovely Bones- Alice Sebold
The Sun Also Rises- Ernest Hemingway
Animal Farm- George Orwell
A Room of One’s Own- Virginia Woolf
One Day- David Nicholls
A Thousand Splendid Suns- Khaled Hosseni
A Little Princess- Frances Hodgson Burnett
Noughts and Crosses series- Malorie Blackman
The Importance of Being Earnest- Oscar Wilde
Murder on the Orient Express- Agatha Cristie
The Picture of Dorian Gray- Oscar Wilde
Angels and Demons- Dan Brown
Of Mice and Men- John Steinbeck
Lord of the Flies- William Golding
Romeo and Juliet- William Shakespeare
Great Expectations- Charles Dickens
The Alchemist- Paulo Coelho
Frankenstein- Mary Shelley
Wuthering Heights- Emily Bronte
His Dark Materials- Phillip Pullman
The Bell Jar- Sylvia Plath
A Walk to Remember- Nicholas Sparks
Atonement- Ian McEwan
Chronicles of Narnia- C.S. Lewis
The Fault in our Stars - John Green
The Old Man and The Sea - Ernest Hemingway
An Abundance of Katherines - John Green
The Paris Wife - Paula McLain
It’s Kind of a Funny Story - Ned Vizzini
A Moveable Feast - Ernest Hemingway
Ways of Seeing - John Berger
Perfect Strangers - Robyn Sisman
Stardust - Neil Gaiman
On Writing - Stephen King
Can You Keep a Secret? - Sophie Kinsella
Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
A Portrait of The Artist as a Young Man - James Joyce
Little Women - Louisa May Alcott
The Unbearable Lightness of Being - Milan Kundera
Midnight - Jacqueline Wilson
1984 - George Orwell
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Please tell me you don't condone anything Stephenie Meyer has written. Please. Twilight was unbearable.
Hi there, this question is something that takes careful consideration to answer. When I first read twilight, I will not lie, I liked it, but this was not because of the writing, but because of the story in its self, mainly because of my age when reading it and how it could appeal to a teenage girl. We believe (my friend and I) that each book has some value, whether it be fantastically big or minute. Although I believe that Stephenie Meyer is not a particularly good writer, it would be wrong to say, based on evidence, that her books are not of value. Any book that has touched a person or made them feel something, is important. And it is important to have badly written books as it is equally important to have well written book, and it is good to acknowledge these things. However, our time, as book lovers, should infinitely be spent on enjoying the books we do enjoy, and to let every person have their own preference. Remember, books are written for us to explore and imagine, and if a book has allowed a person to do that, how could it be classed as empirically bad? There are no bad books that are bad completely. They are either written well, or not well at all. |
"There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature."
“It’s fall now,” I said. “I don’t think you dress warmly enough.”
“It’s only cool in the evening,” Evan said. “I’ll wear my coat.”
“Do you know where it is?”
“No. But it’s somewhere safe.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I left the poem in it.” He laughed heartily holding his lips tightly over his teeth. “Have a whisky with me, Hem.”
- Ernest Hemingway and Evan Shipman in conversation
