If a painting really works down in your heart and changes the way you see, and think, and feel, you don’t think, ‘oh, I love this picture because it’s universal,’ ‘I love this painting because it speaks to all mankind.’ That’s not the reason anyone loves a piece of art. It’s a secret whisper from an alleyway. Psst, you. Hey kid. Yes you.
This, from The Goldfinch, about art, is how I feel about books. (via irisblasi)
In my head books are wearing trench coats, barely visible in the shadows of the alleyways I tend to run away from, but that doesn’t make this any less true.