We read for the words that wind their way around our hearts and open our eyes to the wonders beyond the realm of our imagining.
We read for the stories, for the people in them, and the ones that can do nothing but tell them.
We read for the stories; the ones that transport us to another place, another time, even another world. The stories that make us feel; the ones that break our hearts and the ones that bring us joy.
We read for the knowledge it brings, to learn. We read to strengthen our imaginations and fuel our dreams.
We read for pleasure and entertainment, to lose ourselves among the pages of a novel.
We read because our love for books is too strong and demanding to ignore. Because a book can shape us and the way we see the world, it can show us things we never knew and help us to understand the meaning in life.
We read because there are books, so many they line the walls of our dreams, more than we could ever hope to know. But each book is unique and the story it tells is different for each person who reads it, once the words are printed on the page they take on a life of their own, growing and changing as mood and experience dictate.
We read because we can’t deny the excitement of a new story, held in our hands, waiting for us to begin our journey.