I have a bookshelf in my room. A bookshelf is supposed to hold this much. So strong is my bookshelf. I am so amazed. I wish I could speak to my bookshelf. Reward it for it’s silent revelry. I have a bookshelf in my room. What a bookshelf it is. Fill it up, stuffing its gaping arms with a never ending to do list of ideas. What a bookshelf. I am this bookshelf.
It was in the bookshelf. The book, his diary with all the secrets in it. All his confessions and hidden desires. It was all in there. Everything, captivated into that small black book, marked in with mystic little letters and sly symbols.
My son has a very crowded bookshelf full of a wide variety of children’s books. He has everything from fairy tales to tractors. He loves his books and spends a lot of time looking at them, reading them and talking about them.
IT HOLDS LOTS OF BOOKS AND THEY ARE REALLY USEFUL BECAUSE I HAVE A LOT OF BOOKS. BUT NOT AS NAMY AS MY FRIEND ZOE. SHE HAS HUNDREDS OF BOOKS. THEY ARE IN HER TIOLET, HER DINING ROOM, HER BEDROOM AND EVERY AVAILABLE SHELF. SHE COULD REALLY DO WITH HAVING A BOOK SHELF! I GUESS I DONT NEED ONE THAT MUCH.
Again? I just had this word. Honestly. Is it a word a day? I suspect it might be. Well, it’s too late to write about bookshelves now, isn’t it? So, how’s the weather?…yep…Goodbye, then, I guess.
The day I got lost in the library, it was Aunt Madge’s birthday and we all had to get her a book about poison because she demanded that she would get some poems about poison because she wanted to learn how to take over her enemies. Not like she had any. Well, there I was, in the library, and suddenly I couldn’t find the way out.
Once, when I was young, I was at the foot of my antiquated bookshelf. It smelled a pungent smell, one of yellow pages and dying literature. Its twisting, knotted wood curled and shaped into increasingly bizarre forms.
Behind the thousands of books in the library is another world. The normal people don’t notice. But, I pulled out one book one day and i could see something strange behind it. I took out more books and I could see a door. Ever since I’ve gone in that door, nothing has ever been the same.
dust motes floated in the sun filtering through the smudged window as she ran her hands along the frayed bindings on the ancient bookshelf. the smell of must and mold enveloped her.
A place where you can keep all your books and treasures, including photos of amazing memories in the past and classical novels by Hemingway, Shakespeare and others. My bookshelf at home is in the shape of a canoe and my dad built it for me, which makes it even more of an amazing piece in my house.
My bookshelf is filled with old books from when I was a little girl who conformed to everything. I hate that old self. But it wasn’t me. My little girl self was my parents, other girls in my class, and other people crammed into one person. Now I know who I am and I’m proud.
On the top of the book shelf in the very back where the wall meets the wood lay a dusty, dark and very old thing which no one has seen or thought of years. How did it get there? How long has it been there? What is it? And Is it even there at all?
Bookshelves are used to hold books that people are not reading. However bookshelves serve several other functions as well, including a place to put pictures, vases of flowers, or maybe even a candle.
i’m completely unable to live anywhere without my books. I do not have any comfort level without books. bookshelves are the cornerstone of every home. I moved into an apartment once, without bookshelves. I left that city three months later after total abandonment. It was because I didn’t give my books a home, so they cursed me until once again i found them shelves.
In the back room of my study sits a bookshelf. It contains many diverse works. My favorite are the classics Little Women, Christy, and many more. My bookshelf is a cherished place in my house an altar if you will. It is an adventure onto itself, by cracking open a book you can explore many wondrous places without even leaving the comfort of your own home.
A bookshelf lay in the middle of the garage sell pile. Its paint was chipped in one place, and it was slightly splintered at the bottom. Dust was thinly veiled over the entire self.
big books, so many to choose from, many colored spines, stacks and stacks, good reading, bad reading, love the libraryy, awesome, heavy, swaybacked, don’t break, funny, sad, sports, truth, lies, too many to read in one life, can’t take them along, got to read them now
this vessel holds vactaions to exotic destinations, to times && places otherwise unseen. yellowing pages stricken with black marks, allows people to escape from the everyday.
the bookshelf was filled with his various works. he devoted his life to writing about the things that interested him: sheep, porn, gambling, goats, candy. There wasn’t really one topic that he focused on. When his
I clicked this link on twitter because I saw it on my home-page because I follow Brian Purcell. It took me about 5 seconds to realize the purpose of this but I think now I have the hang of it. Kind of cool. Hopefully not arbitrary, but nonetheless I am enjoying it thoroughly. It’s scary to know that if this was a life or death situation right now I would probably fail on account of the fact that I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say. Well I only have about 6 or 7 seconds left so I guess it’s time to say goodbye. Thanks for listening, and as always, have nice day.
Where I used to put books. Takes up too much room in den; therefore, got rid of it and put most of my books in laptop electronically. Not a fashion statement anymore, just practicality. I do miss my bookshelf though, it is now in my pantry holding my baking and dry goods…oh well, poor bookshelf.
Bookshelves see the eternal. The pages unraveling and twisting. Yellowing pages with age, but never losing life. They are eternal too. They see the lies, the songs the butterflies. They are a servant to the eternal, a child of the eternal. Bookshelves are alive.
There was a dead fly on the bookshelf; passively existing as life moved around it. Passers by barely even noticed it, acknowledged it or cared that it was there.But it existed and continued to exist; a testament to a life, small and fleeting, but a life all the same.
a really cool place that houses your most important adventures… aplcat to find yourself or lose yourself fill it with only the best ones youve read and enjoy browsing what your experienced!! share it with wth people in your life that you love and those that love you!
Today I looked down at the books crossing my floor. Ozzy Osborne came ringing through my mind as I realized that a bookshelf would be so nice for the clutter received on my crazy train of knowledge.
I remember climbing to the top of my bookshelf as a child. As I climbed books tumbled to the ground as if the bookshelf were the mountain and the books the rocks and I the cliffhanger.
When I was six, I lived in a double-wide trailor in Harlan. We had this huge bookshelf that was connected to a corner next to our bathroom. I was feeling jumpy and decided to climb up it. When I reached the top, I fell completely backwards and did a belly buster on my back. That’s when I had my first concussion.
I have three bookshelves back at home and only one shelf here at Elon. I love having all my books and dvd there on my shelf, because it holds endless options that I can choose from. the on I have at college is small and doesn’t provide much to look at/choices to read. I miss my bookshelf at home.
a bookshelf holds books. sometimes other things. a bookshelf is very necessary to life. if we didn’t have a bookshelf, where would we store our books? in piles on the floor? no. i like my bookshelf.
i want a bookshelf. bookshelves are beautiful when they’re made of rosewood. i would love to have a floor to ceiling bookshelf with a matching stool to climb up. if i could, i’d have a library full of bookshelves. i’d read all the books and i’d love it. i love to read. it’s like stacking up my emotions on a shelf
It was heavy, full of books..and other unessentials in my bedroom. I walk past it every day, and don’t even realise the treasures resting underneath that thin layer of dust. His photo was still there. I wonder what he’s doing now.
I have a bookshelf in my room. A bookshelf is supposed to hold this much. So strong is my bookshelf. I am so amazed. I wish I could speak to my bookshelf. Reward it for it’s silent revelry. I have a bookshelf in my room. What a bookshelf it is. Fill it up, stuffing its gaping arms with a never ending to do list of ideas. What a bookshelf. I am this bookshelf.
when I think of bookshelves I think of my house because I have a lot of them.yay
It was in the bookshelf. The book, his diary with all the secrets in it. All his confessions and hidden desires. It was all in there. Everything, captivated into that small black book, marked in with mystic little letters and sly symbols.
My son has a very crowded bookshelf full of a wide variety of children’s books. He has everything from fairy tales to tractors. He loves his books and spends a lot of time looking at them, reading them and talking about them.
the books lean and tilt against each other
some caked in dust, others half bent out of shape
a candle jammed into a corner
a picture frame
IT HOLDS LOTS OF BOOKS AND THEY ARE REALLY USEFUL BECAUSE I HAVE A LOT OF BOOKS. BUT NOT AS NAMY AS MY FRIEND ZOE. SHE HAS HUNDREDS OF BOOKS. THEY ARE IN HER TIOLET, HER DINING ROOM, HER BEDROOM AND EVERY AVAILABLE SHELF. SHE COULD REALLY DO WITH HAVING A BOOK SHELF! I GUESS I DONT NEED ONE THAT MUCH.
I need a bookshelf in my room, but I don’t want to buy one. My floor is my bookshelf.
Again? I just had this word. Honestly. Is it a word a day? I suspect it might be. Well, it’s too late to write about bookshelves now, isn’t it? So, how’s the weather?…yep…Goodbye, then, I guess.
a place where my life stays, there is nothing that can’t fit on it. No ideas are too big or small.
The day I got lost in the library, it was Aunt Madge’s birthday and we all had to get her a book about poison because she demanded that she would get some poems about poison because she wanted to learn how to take over her enemies. Not like she had any. Well, there I was, in the library, and suddenly I couldn’t find the way out.
Once, when I was young, I was at the foot of my antiquated bookshelf. It smelled a pungent smell, one of yellow pages and dying literature. Its twisting, knotted wood curled and shaped into increasingly bizarre forms.
Behind the thousands of books in the library is another world. The normal people don’t notice. But, I pulled out one book one day and i could see something strange behind it. I took out more books and I could see a door. Ever since I’ve gone in that door, nothing has ever been the same.
dust motes floated in the sun filtering through the smudged window as she ran her hands along the frayed bindings on the ancient bookshelf. the smell of must and mold enveloped her.
A place where you can keep all your books and treasures, including photos of amazing memories in the past and classical novels by Hemingway, Shakespeare and others. My bookshelf at home is in the shape of a canoe and my dad built it for me, which makes it even more of an amazing piece in my house.
My bookshelf is filled with old books from when I was a little girl who conformed to everything. I hate that old self. But it wasn’t me. My little girl self was my parents, other girls in my class, and other people crammed into one person. Now I know who I am and I’m proud.
On the top of the book shelf in the very back where the wall meets the wood lay a dusty, dark and very old thing which no one has seen or thought of years. How did it get there? How long has it been there? What is it? And Is it even there at all?
Bookshelves are used to hold books that people are not reading. However bookshelves serve several other functions as well, including a place to put pictures, vases of flowers, or maybe even a candle.
i’m completely unable to live anywhere without my books. I do not have any comfort level without books. bookshelves are the cornerstone of every home. I moved into an apartment once, without bookshelves. I left that city three months later after total abandonment. It was because I didn’t give my books a home, so they cursed me until once again i found them shelves.
In the back room of my study sits a bookshelf. It contains many diverse works. My favorite are the classics Little Women, Christy, and many more. My bookshelf is a cherished place in my house an altar if you will. It is an adventure onto itself, by cracking open a book you can explore many wondrous places without even leaving the comfort of your own home.
And then…it began.
A bookshelf lay in the middle of the garage sell pile. Its paint was chipped in one place, and it was slightly splintered at the bottom. Dust was thinly veiled over the entire self.
big books, so many to choose from, many colored spines, stacks and stacks, good reading, bad reading, love the libraryy, awesome, heavy, swaybacked, don’t break, funny, sad, sports, truth, lies, too many to read in one life, can’t take them along, got to read them now
this vessel holds vactaions to exotic destinations, to times && places otherwise unseen. yellowing pages stricken with black marks, allows people to escape from the everyday.
the bookshelf was filled with his various works. he devoted his life to writing about the things that interested him: sheep, porn, gambling, goats, candy. There wasn’t really one topic that he focused on. When his
I clicked this link on twitter because I saw it on my home-page because I follow Brian Purcell. It took me about 5 seconds to realize the purpose of this but I think now I have the hang of it. Kind of cool. Hopefully not arbitrary, but nonetheless I am enjoying it thoroughly. It’s scary to know that if this was a life or death situation right now I would probably fail on account of the fact that I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say. Well I only have about 6 or 7 seconds left so I guess it’s time to say goodbye. Thanks for listening, and as always, have nice day.
Where I used to put books. Takes up too much room in den; therefore, got rid of it and put most of my books in laptop electronically. Not a fashion statement anymore, just practicality. I do miss my bookshelf though, it is now in my pantry holding my baking and dry goods…oh well, poor bookshelf.
…a jar of sea beans..Tolkein.. Lee..Tagore.. Adams..1001 nights.. Rushdie.. paper cranes… Kerouac.. photographs.. Rolling Stones ticket stubs.. Balzac.. Zola.. coloured pencils…
tiptoes
i stand
reaching for the
topmost books
on
the
bookshelf
huff
puff
layers of dust
dissolve in the mid morning sun
Bookshelves see the eternal. The pages unraveling and twisting. Yellowing pages with age, but never losing life. They are eternal too. They see the lies, the songs the butterflies. They are a servant to the eternal, a child of the eternal. Bookshelves are alive.
There was a dead fly on the bookshelf; passively existing as life moved around it. Passers by barely even noticed it, acknowledged it or cared that it was there.But it existed and continued to exist; a testament to a life, small and fleeting, but a life all the same.
a really cool place that houses your most important adventures… aplcat to find yourself or lose yourself fill it with only the best ones youve read and enjoy browsing what your experienced!! share it with wth people in your life that you love and those that love you!
Today I looked down at the books crossing my floor. Ozzy Osborne came ringing through my mind as I realized that a bookshelf would be so nice for the clutter received on my crazy train of knowledge.
Bookshelf: “I’m hungry and lonely!”
Kindle: “I’m happy and full.”
Bookshelf: “How do you like my candles and pictures?”
Kindle: “Nice.”
Bookshelf: “Don’t you know there’re using you?”
Kindle: “Feels so good.”
Bookshelf: “Hey, I didn’t know I could talk.”
Kindle: “We were meant for each other.”
Bookshelf: “Will you rest yourself on me and do as I say?”
Kindle: “Yes my love.”
I remember climbing to the top of my bookshelf as a child. As I climbed books tumbled to the ground as if the bookshelf were the mountain and the books the rocks and I the cliffhanger.
When I was six, I lived in a double-wide trailor in Harlan. We had this huge bookshelf that was connected to a corner next to our bathroom. I was feeling jumpy and decided to climb up it. When I reached the top, I fell completely backwards and did a belly buster on my back. That’s when I had my first concussion.
I have three bookshelves back at home and only one shelf here at Elon. I love having all my books and dvd there on my shelf, because it holds endless options that I can choose from. the on I have at college is small and doesn’t provide much to look at/choices to read. I miss my bookshelf at home.
a bookshelf holds books. sometimes other things. a bookshelf is very necessary to life. if we didn’t have a bookshelf, where would we store our books? in piles on the floor? no. i like my bookshelf.
i want a bookshelf. bookshelves are beautiful when they’re made of rosewood. i would love to have a floor to ceiling bookshelf with a matching stool to climb up. if i could, i’d have a library full of bookshelves. i’d read all the books and i’d love it. i love to read. it’s like stacking up my emotions on a shelf
books, novel, authors, romantic, drama, thriller, mystery, crime, marya hornbacher, guillaume musso, stephen king, horror, fantasy, wood, brown, bright, large,
It was heavy, full of books..and other unessentials in my bedroom. I walk past it every day, and don’t even realise the treasures resting underneath that thin layer of dust. His photo was still there. I wonder what he’s doing now.