Seattle Mystery Bookshop Books & Decay

When life descends into the pit
I must become my own candle
Willingly burning my self
To light up the darkness around me.

Alice Walker

-Seattle Mystery Bookshop

I’ve heard the word ‘fear’. I simply choose to believe it doesn’t apply to me.

City of Ashes

-Seattle Mystery Bookshop

Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.

Anton Chekhov

-Seattle Mystery Bookshop

You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house— , and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced
upon,—
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back
my too-sudden image. Who knows? Perhaps the same
bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening..

Rainer Maria Rilke

-Seattle Mystery Bookshop

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps…

Neruda

-Seattle Mystery Bookshop 

The whole of life is just like watching a film. Only it’s as though you always get in ten minutes after the big picture has started, and no-one will tell you the plot, so you have to work it out all yourself from the clues.

Moving Pictures

-Seattle Mystery Bookshop

Haydon had found his charm again. He could do that at the drop of a hat. He drew you and he repelled you. I remember that exactly. He danced all ways for you, playing your emotions against each other because he had none of his own.

John le Carré, The Secret Pilgrim

-Seattle Mystery Bookshop

She lacks confidence, she craves admiration insatiably. She lives on the reflections of herself in the eyes of others. She does not dare to be herself.

Anais Nin

-Seattle Mystery Bookshop

Sometimes you wake up from a dream. Sometimes you wake up in a dream. And sometimes, every once in a while, you wake up in someone else’s dream.

Richelle Mead, Succubus Blues

-Seattle Mystery Bookshop

Fields and forests and rivers and mists in the morning….that’s only pretty.

My mother used to say that the only real beauty is order and love and light.

Stephen King

-Seattle Mystery Bookshop

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost

Tolkien

-Seattle Mystery Bookshop