Is there a word (actual or fabricated) to describe the feeling you get after reading a good book? You know the feeling: you don’t want to let it go but know you must and you want to tell it you won’t find another as good as it, but you’ve already started searching for something to fill the void it left in your soul. No book will ever be as good but you will die trying to find one. And then you do find one that is, it may even be the best ever, and the whole thing starts over again.
@Tacitus_Kilgore I fear he may accuse me of literary promiscuity. Which… wouldn’t be entirely inaccurate?