Authors:
  • Because when I read, I don't really read; I pop a beautiful sentence into my mouth and suck it like a fruit drop, or I sip it like a liqeur until the thought dissolves in me like alcohol, infusing brain and heart and coursing on through the veins to the root of each blood vessel.

    Bohumil Hrabal (1992). “Too Loud a Solitude”, p.4, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt