Sometimes you don't walk into a bookstore planning to buy a book. You just feel at ease surrounded by the covers and pages. You like to open them up and read a little, almost as though you're having a conversation with a good friend. Then you read a sentence, one glorious sentence, and, two minutes later, you're walking down Ninth Street with a book in your hand.
In the dry places, men begin to dream.
This line gave me chills. Now I need to go get the book!
I know, right? For my summer on the farm I wanted to read some Nebraska writers. Wright Morris is one I've found to resonate with me. He is also a photographer.
He sounds like an artist.