So many great books, so little time on earth.

So little time in this world to read all the great books that are out there. I hate it when thoughts like this occur to me. No matter how many books I read I will never be able to read as many as I want to. For every one I have read and loved (or in rare cases hated) there will always be a million more that I haven’t read and won’t ever have the chance to. I find myself resenting things that get in the way of my reading. On Super Bowl Sunday while most of the people I know are parked in front of the TV, I’m in the middle of a great book –Sinners and the Sea, by Rebecca Kanner–

As usual, the rest of the world passes by while my nose is in a book. I can’t imagine a better way of spending my day…except maybe if there was chocolate involved while I was reading. I find that the ambiance of the room I am in has a lot to do with how easily I can connect with a book and how much the writing affects me. I have posted on a place outdoors I like to go and read, but inside the house, I love my breakfast nook. There is something about the natural light streaming through the windows and the old ratty armchair everyone has begged me t get rid of for eons that just feels right to ponder the world of books in. Where do you go when you want to just read? Is there a specific room in your your home that makes you feel more like reading than another?