For some, these simple words evoke a strange, wonderfully contented desire to step into a world of yesterday or a world of magical fancy. For others, they evoke a grimace of forced familiarity pushed upon them by teachers who only tried to follow the lesson plan or friends and family members wanting to impress a love of reading.
However, the latter, though indeed forced unwillingly into books either much too far above their understanding or simply far from their particular tastes, miss out on the joys and friendships that can exist between the pages.
The literature to which I am referring includes the works by authors such as Dickens, Austen, Fitzgerald, and the like. Between the pages of their praiseworthy works are found characters – people – while not real in the worldly sense, but real in our imaginations, where they are cultivated into existence through the aid…
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