Love feels like tingles and sunrays. It’s a tightness in my chest and an extra beat of my heart. Love is completeness—sappiness. Better than the best chocolate ever. Love gives me tickle-chills and super high, high, high smiles. It keeps me from sleeping. It makes it hard to breathe, blink, care. Love is indescribable, cumbersome, silly-selfish, consuming, life-changing, goose bump-giving, knowing-all-the-words-to-the-song exciting, I-can’t-think-straight-without-him overwhelming, sigh-swooning, laugh-out-loud-for-no-reason anxious. It’s fun and always near. It’s a rule-causing, jealousy-inducing, leg-kicking, dream-giving, wonderful, filling, shake-trembling, wonder-where-you-are-always obsessive, necessary, requiring, joyful flow.
M. Elizabeth & S. Elizabeth, Innocents (via reading-is—breathing)
This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals—sounds that say listen to this, it is important.

Gary Provost  

Book Quote #538

(via bookgeekconfessions)