It had been startling and disappointing to me to find out that story books had been written by people, that books were not natural wonders, coming up of themselves like grass. Yet regardless of where they come from, I cannot remember a time when I was not in love with them -- with the books themselves, cover and binding and the paper they were printed on, with their smell and their weight and with their possession in my arms, captured and carried off to myself. Still illiterate, I was ready for them, committed to all the reading I could give them. .Eudora Welty
About This Quote
The first time I read a book was in the fourth grade. I had memorized the alphabet, knew the difference between lower case and upper case, and pronounced words like "raspberry." But the book I was given was unlike any I had read before. It was big and heavy and black with a white cloth cover. It was called "The Story of Ferdinand." The story was about a little bull named Ferdinand who wanted to run away from his master's farm to see the world.
When he reached the end of his tether, he ran to the town square, where all the other bulls were forced to fight for food. When it came time for them to fight, Ferdinand ran away instead. He found himself in another country where he met many new friends, including a monkey named The Count.
After many adventures in this new land, he returned home with his friends and helped save his master's farm from being taken over by locusts. This is when I saw books for the first time as something magical. They were not just words on paper but meant something much more than that -- they were alive, magical creatures that could help us lead better lives when we learn what they can teach us.
Source: One Writers Beginnings
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