Currently Reading:

Jamaica Inn   by    Daphne du Maurier

words,  words, words - words! 

....she wanted to play with them, let her fingers fiddle with liteary clay, shaping, molding, reshaping. 
.... she wanted to eat them, slurp them like some never-ending spaghetti noodle, leaving red pasta sauce splatters all around her mouth.
...she wantered to hear them spoken, with passion, with fury,  in heartbreak and humour. The author's mind streaming through an open microphone.
...she wanted to inhale their stench throuhg her nostrils, a mischievous kid sniffing fruit-scented coloring markers.
....she wanted to read them, five books at a time. To be blinded and then have her eyes open wide and bright.

Wordsmith? writer? whatever you might call her, OH, how the words got her excited!