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Young Writers Society


Recomend a book!



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365 Reviews


Gender: Female
Points: 3225
Reviews: 365
Sun Jan 11, 2009 1:19 pm
Antigone Cadmus says...



Something that's not that deep... something like gossip girl...

Sorry XD
Odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?
nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.
-Catullus, Carmen 85
  





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1272 Reviews


Gender: Other
Points: 89625
Reviews: 1272
Sun Jan 11, 2009 2:48 pm
Rosendorn says...



Umm, the Life of Pi, since from what I've read you like those kinds of books.
A writer is a world trapped in a person— Victor Hugo

Ink is blood. Paper is bandages. The wounded press books to their heart to know they're not alone.
  





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42 Reviews


Gender: Female
Points: 1081
Reviews: 42
Sat Jan 17, 2009 8:10 am
Ducati says...



Okay, it's another science type book, but also history. Eistein's Clocks and Poincare's Maps. Very fascinating.
When you look at your life, in a strange new room, maybe drowning soon, is this the start of it all?
  





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365 Reviews


Gender: Female
Points: 3225
Reviews: 365
Sat Jan 17, 2009 3:06 pm
Antigone Cadmus says...



A Wrinkle in Time?
Odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?
nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.
-Catullus, Carmen 85
  





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1272 Reviews


Gender: Other
Points: 89625
Reviews: 1272
Sat Jan 17, 2009 4:04 pm
Rosendorn says...



Gah! It's the same three people all the time!

You have probably already read this, but- Vampire Diaries
A writer is a world trapped in a person— Victor Hugo

Ink is blood. Paper is bandages. The wounded press books to their heart to know they're not alone.
  





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203 Reviews


Gender: Female
Points: 890
Reviews: 203
Sat Jan 17, 2009 4:20 pm
October Girl says...



I think you should really read this book called Wake by: Lisa McMann

great book :D
We're meant to be one
I know we are...
If I am the Sky
Then you are my star... ™
  








When we are children we seldom think of the future. This innocence leaves us free to enjoy ourselves as few adults can. The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind.
— Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind