Last night I stayed up way too late reading, but I was gaining from it, so I took it as it came. When I’m inspired or engrossed, it’s a good read, and I was getting to books that had sat unread for longer than I care to admit. After a while they call to me more plaintively to get at them, and to silence that somewhat guilty feeling, I set them in some order and began to begin.
It isn’t as though every time I read, it’s easy to get into a book. I’ve actually given myself permission in recent years not to finish a book if it doesn’t interest once I get started. Of course, being a fast reader, I skim read those things of lesser interest, and savor the ones that strike me at the time.
Sometimes it feels like the stars align when I find a number of books that call to me to read them. And when the muse is there, when I’m gaining from the read, instead of feeling it’s a chore, that’s the time for me to hit the books, so I did. I’m paying for it a bit this morning, but I’ll get my second wind.
I loved this quote when I read it the other day. It expresses what I love about reading.
…[to read is to] quietly appreciate an author’s voice in the theatre of our own minds. Sharon/BlueCedar at POL, with permission
What do you like to read?
Karin
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