Autobiography

book asks!

CHOOSE BETWEEN:

1. Libraries or bookstores?

2. Hardcover or paperback?

3. Hard copies or ereaders?

4. Bookmarks or dogears?

5. New books or worn books?

FAVORITE:

1. Genre?

2. Author?

3. Series?

4. Individual book?

5. Classic book?

ENVIRONMENT:

1. Favorite time of day to read?

2. Favorite place to read?

3. Silence or background noise?

4. Preferred weather for reading?

5. Favorite reading-time snack?

PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE:

1. Favorite childhood book?

2. Currently reading?

3. Book you want to read most?

4. Reading goals?

5. Book you could read forever?

ANTI-FAVORITES:

1. Worst book you’ve read?

2. Book you couldn’t even finish?

3. Book you didn’t understand?

4. Most overrated book?

5. Problematic book?

AESTHETIC: (feel free to include pictures!)

1. Prettiest cover?

2. Best illustrations?

3. Favorite map in a book?

4. Best overall book aesthetic?

5. Ugliest book?

GENRE:

1. Scariest book?

2. Best fantasy world?

3. Funniest book?

4. Saddest book?

5. Book you would never want to read?

CHARACTERS:

1. Character you wish to be friends with?

2. Favorite antagonist?

3. Favorite protag?

4. Favorite supporting?

5. Most-hated character?

That image of Joan of Arc burning up in a fire burned inside me like a new religion. Her face skyward. Her faith muscled up like a holy war. And always the voice of a father in her head. Like me. Jesus. What is a thin man pinned to wood next to the image of a burning woman warrior ablaze? I took the image of a burning woman into my heart and left belief to the house of father forever.
—  From The Chronology of Water by Lidia Yuknavitch

Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. These passions, like great winds, have blown me hither and thither, in a wayward course, over a deep ocean of anguish, reaching to the very verge of despair.

I have sought love, first, because it brings ecstasy – ecstasy so great that I would often have sacrificed all the rest of life for a few hours of this joy. I have sought it, next, because it relieves loneliness – that terrible loneliness in which one shivering consciousness looks over the rim of the world into the cold unfathomable lifeless abyss. I have sought it, finally, because in the union of love I have seen, in a mystic miniature, the prefiguring vision of the heaven that saints and poets have imagined. This is what I sought, and though it might seem too good for human life, this is what – at last – I have found.

With equal passion I have sought knowledge. I have wished to understand the hearts of men. I have wished to know why the stars shine. And I have tried to apprehend the Pythagorean power by which number holds sway above the flux. A little of this, but not much, I have achieved.

Love and knowledge, so far as they were possible, led upward toward the heavens. But always pity brought me back to earth. Echoes of cries of pain reverberate in my heart. Children in famine, victims tortured by oppressors, helpless old people a hated burden to their sons, and the whole world of loneliness, poverty, and pain make a mockery of what human life should be. I long to alleviate the evil, but I cannot, and I too suffer.

This has been my life. I have found it worth living, and would gladly live it again if the chance were offered me.

—  Bertrand Russell