Sunday Night Reads.

Reading, it takes the mind beyond physical boundaries; you traverse miles across the sea, into and out of parallel universes, back into the past, back into the present. All in the comfort of home. (:

Aye, guilty as charged. I should be studying.
But I'll make up for lost time, I will.
What's better than spending a Sunday evening snuggled up reading.
Studying? No way. Heh ;D

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Never judge a book by it's cover, they say. Aye, true it is.
It's a children's fantasy novel, but no one, no one could ever claim that nothing can be garnered from such enjoyable reads. Especially one as chilling, and heartwarming as this 288 paged book could bring.

Excerpt, The Graveyard Book, Neil Gaiman
Leavings and Partings:

     'Hullo, Mother,' said Bod.
     Mistress Owns rubbed her eyes with a knuckle, then dabbed at them with her apron, and she shook her head. "Do you know what you're going to do now?" she asked.

     "See the world," said Bod. 'Get into trouble. Get out of trouble again. Visit jungles and volcanoes and deserts and islands. And people. I want to meet an awful lot of people.
    Mistress Owens made no immediate reply. She stared up at him, and then she began to sing a song that Bod remembered, a song she used to sing him when he was a tiny thing, a song that she had used to lull him to sleep when he was small

'Sleep my little babby-oh
Sleep until you waken
When you wake you'll see the world
If I'm not mistaken...'

'You're not,' whispered Bod. 'And I shall.'

'Kiss a lover,
Dance a measure,
Find your name
And buried treasure...'

Then the last lines of the song came back to Mistress Owens, and she sang them to her son.

'Face you life
Its pain, its pleasure,
Leave no path untaken'

'Leave no path untaken,' repeated Bod. 'A difficult challenge, but I can try my best.'
     He tried to put his arms around his mother then, as he had when he was a child, although he might as well have been trying to hold mist, for he was alone on the path.
     He took a step forward, through the gate that took him out of the graveyard. He though a voice said, 'I'm so proud of you, my son,' but he might, perhaps, have imagined it.
     The midsummers sky was already beginning to lighten in the east, and that was the way that Bod began to walk: down the hill, towards the living people, and the city, and the dawn.
     There was a passport in his bag, money in his pocket. There was a smile dancing on his lips, although it was a wary smile, for the world is a bigger place than a little graveyard on a hill; and there would be dangers in it and mysteries, new friends to make, old friends to rediscover, mistakes to be made and many paths to be walked before he would, finally, return to the graveyard or ride with the Lady on the broad back of her great grey stallion.
     But between now and then, there was Life; and Bod walked into it with his eyes and his heart wide open.