> Nothing sterilizes a book's emotional or intellectual impact quite like being forced to read it. at the rate of one fucking chapter a week I always remember

> Nothing sterilizes a book's emotional or intellectual impact quite like being forced to read it. at the rate of one fucking chapter a week I always remember Flowers for Algernon, a book which we read as part of English class. I devoured it in about 2-3 days and it was definitely the first book to ever make me cry. Like, that book is fucking incredible. I told the teacher next day - who (wisely) said I shouldn't share this with fellow students lest I get mocked. 4 weeks later we're being asked questions about the motivations of characters. Or what do we think the author meant by this paragraph. All in chapter 4. I couldn't remember, I didn't care. The book had a profound interest on me and nobody else was actually reading it. Just micro-analysing all possible joy out of it. Ugh.