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Quote by Mariana Sández

“El tiempo con los demás se llevaba su humanidad poco a poco. Yo me daba cuenta. Un día sin escribir para tu mamá era un día menos valioso; sin lectura, una jornada casi nula, arruinada. Irse a dormir tarde y agotada sin haber tocado unas páginas, una existencia suicida.”

Quote by Mariana Sández

Work

Una casa llena de gente

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Author

Mariana Sández

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“The difference essentially between a book and a friend lies not in their greater or lesser wisdom, but in the manner in which we communicate with them, reading being the reverse of conversation, consisting as it does for each one of us in receiving the communication of another’s thought while still being on our own, that is, continuing to enjoy the intellectual sway which we have in solitude and which conversation dispels instantly, and continuing to be open to inspiration, with our minds still at work hard and fruitfully on themselves.”

“For as long as reading is for us the instigator whose magic keys have opened the door to those dwelling-places deep within us that we would not have known how to enter, its role in our lives is salutary. It becomes dangerous on the other hand, when, instead of awakening us to the personal life of the mind, reading tends to take its place, when the truth no longer appears to us as an ideal which we can realize only by the intimate progress of our own thought and the efforts of our own heart, but as something material, deposited between the leaves of books like a honey fully prepared by others and which we need only take the trouble to reach down from the shelves of libraries and then sample passively in a perfect repose of mind and body.”

“One time one guy said he had a stroke reading my absurd writing, so I said, “Thank you for your service.” Then I continued washing my dishes in my lawnmower, because my ducks were splashing around in the kitchen sink.”

“How dare they speak so unkindly of stories? Stories never did anything to them! Stories are only here to love you and look after you and show you a good time… Stories don’t even ask anything in return but not to have grape juice spilled on them, and, every once in a while, to be thought of fondly, years and years after you shut their covers.”