Words are magical

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I’m a reader. I lost my way for a few years but I’ve got my mojo back. I’ve read a lot over the last few months and am reading the book pictured above now. It’s quirky, soulful, funny and full of life. It’s one of those books I feel happy to be part of. I am especially glad because this is what I just read:

“Do you believe in God, Arthur?” I said, eating the last piece of sponge.
“Do I believe in an old man in the clouds with a white beard judging us mortals with a moral code from one to ten? Good Lord no, my sweet Elly, I do not! I would have been cast out from this life years ago with my tatty history. Do I believe in a mystery; the unexplained phenomenon that is life itself? The greater something that illuminates inconsequence in our lives; that gives us something to strive for as well as the humility to brush ourselves down and start all over again? Then yes, I do. It is the source of art, of beauty, of love, and proffers the ultimate goodness to mankind. That to me is God. That to me is life. That is what I believe in.”

Yes. So much yes. That has put in words things I have never been able to myself. Good writers can put words around feelings you didn’t even know you had. Words are magical.

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