My Love Of Books

When I was younger, the amount of obligations upon me fewer and less likely to affect life in the long term, it was far easier to pursue my passion for fiction. School consumed less time, and the classes were introductions to various principles rather than in depth study. The books contained within the library of my elementary school weren’t great works of literature either. They were simple stories, with simple characters and events, but I loved them anyways. These simple things made sense, a comfort blanket that I simply had to reach into a basket on a shelf to find. When library time rolled around every week, I always managed to find three or four new ones to take home, and then read them all within a day or two. I had never been a particularly athletic child; I had the time and the will to devour as many stories as I possibly could.

I cannot remember a time in my life when I didn’t love reading and writing. My favorite books during my early childhood mostly consisted of Dr. Seuss books. I spent hours reading with my parents and on my own, we read a book before bed every night. When I was in Kindergarten I wrote my first book, about bunny rabbits. I spent hours making two copies of my picture book about what I believed bunnies did. My older sister became my first critic when she told me that my book was stupid and childish. I remember sobbing when a glass of water spilled on them and smudged the marker I had used to create them. My mom managed to salvage the books and they’re still in a box somewhere.

It may be cliché, but books have always held a spot close to my heart. When I was three I had a book called Bitsy Witch that went wherever I did. When I was seven, my mom read a chapter of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone every night. In middle school, I worked my way through the entire children’s section at my local library. In high school, I took every English class offered, and when I entered college I to compromise with my family that I would also pursue a pre-professional program. My time outside of class was spent on my pre-professional degree until, my senior year in college. I took two classes that focused on children’s and young adult texts. Before those classes, I hadn’t realized that specializing in Children’s literature was

As a child, I devoured as many words as possible. Living in a rural area of Northern Michigan, books helped me pass the time and gave me chances to use my imagination. I collected books; I wanted a library like the one that the Beast gave to Belle in my favorite Disney movie. Some of my childhood favorites included classics such as Harold and the Purple Crayon, Ramona and Beezus, and anything by Shel Silverstein or Roald

My reading experiences as child was an interesting combination of biblical short stories, Nancy Drew novels, and vinyl recordings of classic Disney fairytales. The most valuable experience I can remember from childhood was my weekly visits to the school’s library. The smell of the card catalog and challenging myself to locate books using the Dewey Decimal system gave me greater appreciation for literature and most importantly built a foundation for creativity and critical thinking skills.

Not only as a kid did I like reading but I also liked writing! And well I still do. As a kid, I kept a journal of everything I did. I stopped when I was around nine but I still find it hilarious to go back and read what I was thinking. This just makes good memories to look back at and now I wish I would’ve kept writing so I could enjoy reliving these moments of my

When I think of books, I can’t help but smile in anticipation of the journey I will embark upon from cover to cover, the secrets that will be revealed within their pages, the additions to my vocabulary I will collect as souvenirs, and the new avenues that will be excavated in the realm of my mind. Beginning as early as I can remember, books were read to me by my mother, my father and my sisters. The thrill of an outing to the public library while growing up in rural Wisconsin was every bit as exciting as a trip to the carnival or the circus because, as my earliest discoveries conveyed, books could take me any place. I believe I must have been born with a

I remember as a child the weekly trip to the public library. Our town was a typical small town in the Midwest and a trip to the Carnegie Library on Main Street was always an adventure. I remember the high ceilings and the slowly turning steel gray fans which hung from elaborate plaster medallions. I remember the smell of wood, of leather and paper covered in printers’ ink. I remember dust lines on the shelves in some sections, and I remember standing in lines behind children in others. Yet, most of all I remember the wonder and the excitement waiting to pick the perfect book with the perfect story to fill a need of adventure in the coming week.

Nowadays, I am still a reading lover and writes from time to time, I really appreciate I had a boring childhood to let me read extensively and developed my minds from all the masterpieces. When I recall the nights of reading books in the dormitory of the boarding school, I still feel warm and sweet. Because I know regardless how long the night is, there is a book which would accompany me as

Books were my best friend as a young adolescent and when I say “Best Friend” I mean so in a literal sense. I will not go into the specifics, most of it was quite boring I assure you. I attended a very small school, in an even quainter town, so I could probably count the number of people I knew and actively spoke to on a regular basis on both hands. I was a bit of a peculiar child, I was always a little too weird, or a little too quiet for the other twelve children in my grade’s taste. Consequently, as one could imagine, I didn’t exactly have people lining up around the corner

An ecological footprint is the amount of Earth’s resources that humans use in terms of how much land is required to produce those resources. By this equation, people are currently using 1.5 times as much resources as the Earth can sustain (GFN). Before calculating my personal ecological footprint, I predicted that mine would be somewhat less than the average American because I try to make sustainable choices in my everyday actions. I walk everywhere with the occasional exception of riding a bus for short distances, try to conserve energy, and recycle as often as I can, however, I eat a significant amount of animal products and processed foods. I also predicted that because I live in a highly developed nation, my impact would be much greater

Reading and writing are essential to any humans’ way of life. From the ages of 3 to 6 my mom had read to me every night before bedtime. The stories she had read to me ranged from fairytales to Dr. Seuss. The first chapter book I remember reading was in 1st grade. The teacher allowed us access to one book from her bookshelf. I chose Kristy’s Big Day from The Babysitters Club collection. I took such a huge liking to it that I begged my mom to buy me a collection of the books, which now reside at my aunt’s house. It took me the whole summer to a set of 15 books. While, I was in 3rd grade I began to write poetry. I showed my teacher some of the poems and she thought they were so incredible that she wanted me to write more,

My life has always involved reading. Some of my earliest and happiest memories involve books, and my life today has been largely affected by reading, from when I first started out to present day. The first time I can remember reading was when I was about four years old. I remember looking through one of my mom’s medical books and learning how to read through Dick and Jane books, but my most vivid memory is of reading the American Girl books. I used to read them with my mom every night before I went to bed, and one of my most exciting childhood memories was reading an entire Addy book in one night.

At this point in my life, reading would definitely not make a list of my favorite things to do, but this wasn’t always the case. Some of my youngest memories involve reading, and many of these memories are enjoyable. Every night before bed my mom would read to me, and I remember begging to read just one more before she tucked me in almost every night. This is when my love for reading sparked. Throughout grade school, I continued to read frequently and never found it to be a chore; however, once middle school hit I no longer included reading as a past time or found it pleasurable. Looking back now I realize this was when English class included more forced literature, and school consisted of reading extensive pages in textbooks. Reading

When I was in kindergarten, I was the only child in my class who didn’t know how to read. I had grown up listening to stories, weaved into my imagination by my parents. When I found out that I would be able to read those stories ourselves, I was stunned. Every day in class, I would try my best to learn and catch up with my peers. Day after day I left class feeling more and more hopeless in my attempts. A wrong vowel. A bad pronunciation. A long word. I was nearly ready to give up, when at last, I made a breakthrough. I finished my first book, a thin paperback copy of Dick and Jane. The fact that the book couldn’t have been more than five pages was irrelevant, I had tasted the Lotus, and would never go without it again. From that day on, my school and home life were filled with reading. I finished all the Dick and Jane books, so I started reading short picture books. I finished the short picture books, and started reading Curious George. I finished Curious George and started reading novels. The pages sang to me, painted pictures of faraway lands, heroes, and