Letters are so much more beautiful than emails. They have a whole different essence to them
(via anilouise)
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Turning pages.
From p. 16-17 (?) of Select Stories for Children (1810). Original from Oxford University. Digitized September 11, 2007.
Whenever I’m having a particularly vicious day, such as today, I like to go back to my childhood books. They never cease to bring on an onslaught of nostalgia that makes me simultaneously happier and bittersweet. They were so simple, complexities of the world not present and that provides me with an escape. The books in this post are only a few of many books that I hold dear to my heart.
I can recall when I was a bit younger, I had more imaginary friends than I had real friends. In actuality, I didn’t have any friends. I’d go for an adventure to Neverland with Wendy or I’d help Alice get away from the Red Queen, and I wouldn’t return until supper. Long live the era of princesses, magic and pirate ships. <3





