I hate this feeling - the feeling you get when a really good book ends.The sadness that washes over you - When you almost start to cry - even though the ending was perfect. It's like having a dream, a beautiful, mesmerizing dream, and then waking up to a grey reality - lacking in passion and color and light. After these types of books I always feel as though I'm waiting for my life to begin, like I should be out there doing something.
I find that this ^ is what makes a truly good book for me - a book that I want to read over and over again. Few books make it to that level and they’re usually classics like “The Lord of The Rings” or “Rose in Bloom.” I’m always in search of these types of books, which is ironic because I feel depressed after reading them. It is kind of a “beautiful depression” though, if that makes any sense.