I have read and re-read Molly Keane more, I think, than any other writer.
It started when I re-read one of the wine world's sacred texts: The Oxford Companion to Wine, by Jancis Robinson.
I love the writing so much, have already read it and re-read it so many times that now I just touch the pages.
I re-read it several times, the last when I was in college, and then lost the falling-apart copy.
I was a little apprehensive to re-read it as an adult, but like all of Wolfe's early journalism, it totally holds up.
It would be difficult for me to express the feelings with which I read it—and am now trying to re-read it as I dictate this.
Bruce finished his letter and re-read it, revising a little here and there.
I'm surprised myself, as I re-read the preceding pages, at the strange contradictions I meet with.
He waited for her letters; he re-read them; he wrote to her.
He read the letter from beginning to end, and then re-read it.