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| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| 3b39024 | daddy daddy you bastard, i'm through | Sylvia Plath | ||
| 4f3ca62 | She looks like a woman who has found it ridiculous to commit herself to a single emotional stance in anything, but must always ride high heavy irony. | Sylvia Plath | ||
| 1175254 | To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is the bad dream. A bad dream. I remembered everything. I remembered the cadavers and Doreen and the story of the fig tree and Marco's diamond and the sailor on the Common and Doctor Gordon's wall-eyed nurse and the broken thermometer and the Negro with his two kinds of beans and the twenty pounds I gained on insulin and the rock that bulged between sky and se.. | Sylvia Plath | ||
| bef08c0 | My mother smiled. "I knew my baby wasn't like that." I looked at her. "Like what?" "Like those awful people. Those awful dead people at that hospital." She paused. "I knew you'd decide to be all right again." | depression mental-health-stigma stigma decision hospital mental-health | Sylvia Plath | |
| a3463b1 | I wondered what terrible thing it was that I had done. | Sylvia Plath | ||
| a0c60cf | Love Letter" Not easy to state the change you made. If I'm alive now, then I was dead, Though, like a stone, unbothered by it, Staying put according to habit. You didn't just tow me an inch, no- Nor leave me to set my small bald eye Skyward again, without hope, of course, Of apprehending blueness, or stars. That wasn't it. I slept, say: a snake Masked among black rocks as a black rock In the white hiatus of winter- Like my neighbors, taking.. | Sylvia Plath | ||
| c76b49a | The reason I hadn't washed my clothes or my hair was because it seemed so silly. I saw the day of the year stretching ahead like a series of bright, white boxes, and separating one box from another was sleep, like a black shade. Only for me, the long perspective of shades that set off one box from the next had suddenly snapped up, and I could see day after day glaring ahead of me like a white, broad, infinitely desolate avenue. It seemed si.. | Sylvia Plath | ||
| 86268a8 | I wondered at what point in space the silly, sham blue of the sky turned black. | Sylvia Plath | ||
| 55b7a5a | Stasis in darkness. Then the substanceless blue | Sylvia Plath | ||
| edc7fe7 | A living doll, everywhere you look. It can sew, it can cook, It can talk, talk, talk. It works, there is nothing wrong with it. You have a hole, its a poultice. You have an eye, its an image. My boy, its your last resort. Will you marry it, marry it, marry it. | Sylvia Plath | ||
| be4ff01 | No place so scared from such frops is barred Nor is Paul's Church more safe than Paul's Churchyard | Alexander Pope | ||
| 4f8eb7b | How sad, how strange, we make companions out of air and hurt them, so they will defy us, completing creation. | John Updike | ||
| 05effe8 | To write well, to write passionately, to be less inhibited, to be warmer, to be more self-critical, to recognize the power of as well as the force of lust, to write, to love. | John Cheever | ||
| 4520e6f | It was the happiest moment of my life, though I didn't know it. Had I known, had I cherished this gift, would everything have turned out differently? | Orhan Pamuk | ||
| 16c5df3 | at the end of the day there was nothing to be gained by reminding people that everything that had ever been written, even the greatest and most authoritative texts in the world, were about dreams, not real life, dreams conjured up by words. | words ideas | Orhan Pamuk | |
| 4b09572 | kl shy' fy lb`ydi ynthy . | Orhan Pamuk | ||
| 9a2c55f | Love is the urgency to hold fast to another and to be together in the same place. It's the desire to keep the world out by embracing another. It is the yearning to find a safe harbor for the human soul. | Orhan Pamuk | ||
| 9c18344 | These were innocent people, so innocent that they thought poverty a crime that wealth would allow them to forget. --- from the notebooks of Celal Salik | Orhan Pamuk | ||
| 14a490b | This is the greatest consolation in life. In poetically well-built museums, formed from the heart's compulsions, we are consoled not by finding in them old objects that we love, but by losing all sense of Time. | time living-life museums timelessness | Orhan Pamuk | |
| 55fbfe2 | I'm a dog, and because you humans are much less rational beasts than I, you're telling yourselves, 'Dogs don't talk.' Nethertheless, you seem to believe a story in which corpses speak and characters use words they couldn't possibly know. Dogs do speak, but only to those who know how to listen. | Orhan Pamuk | ||
| 4cb6705 | And before long, the music, the views rushing past the window, my fathers voice and the narrow cobblestone streets all merged into one, and it seemed to me that while we would never find answers to these fundamental questions, it was good for us to ask them anyway. | Orhan Pamuk | ||
| e72b89a | Ka found it very soothing: for the first time in years, he felt part of a family. In spite of the trials and responsibilities of what was called 'family', he saw now the joys of its unyielding togetherness, and was sorry not to have known more of it in his life. | family | Orhan Pamuk | |
| 6a948ad | The reading eye must do the work to make them live, and so it did, again and again, never the same life twice, as the artist had intended. | norse intellectual mythology | A.S. Byatt | |
| 860c956 | He hesitated. "They were what stayed alive, when I'd been taught and examined everything else." Maud smiled then. "Exactly. That's it. What could survive our education." | A.S. Byatt | ||
| d6a57ed | It is good for a man to invite his ghosts into his warm interior, out of the wild night, into the firelight, out of the howling dark. | A.S. Byatt | ||
| aa568a6 | You know, it's a truism that writers for children must still be children themselves, deep down, must still feel childish feelings, and a child's surprise at the world. | A.S. Byatt | ||
| 2fa056c | failure with clay was more complete and more spectacular than with other forms of art. You are subject to the elements... Any one of the old four - earth, air, fire, water - can betray you and melt, or burst, or shatter - months of work into dust and ashes and spitting steam. You need to be a precise scientist, and you need to know how to play with what chance will do to your lovingly constructed surfaces in the heat of the kiln. | pottery | A.S. Byatt | |
| 0aafb47 | It is possible for a writer to make, or remake at least, for a reader, the primary pleasures of eating, or drinking, or looking on, or sex. Novels have their obligatory tour-de-force, the green-flecked gold omelette , melting into buttery formlessness and tasting of summer, or the creamy human haunch, firm and warm, curved back to reveal a hot hollow, a crisping hair or two, the glimpsed sex. They do not habitually elaborate on the equally.. | reading pleasures | A.S. Byatt | |
| a74e554 | Only in love is there trust - even the possibility of trust. | Joyce Carol Oates | ||
| 24eb21e | Have you ever looked at, say, a picture or a great building or read a paragraph in a book and felt the world suddenly expand and, in the same instant, contract and harden into a kernel of perfect purity? Do you know what I mean? Everything suddenly fits, everything's in its place. | words literature reading connection | Carol Shields | |
| 3e3592b | When we think of the past we tend to assume that people were simpler in their functions, and shaped by forces that were primary and irreducible. We take for granted that our forbears were imbued with a deeper purity of purpose than we possess nowadays, and a more singular set of mind, believing, for example, that early scientists pursued their ends with unbroken ,,dedication" and that artists worked in the flame of some perpetual ,,inspirat.. | Carol Shields | ||
| 0bbd84b | I have learned to cry again and I think perhaps that means I am a human being again. Perhaps that at least. A piece of human being but yes, a human being. | William Styron | ||
| 2de6d9f | They say when you're about to die, you see your entire life flash before your eyes. They lied. | Sherrilyn Kenyon | ||
| 33959f1 | It seems hardly possible to analyse such a complex situation involving deceit and supposition of another person's emotional response, and then prepare your own plausible lie, all while someone is waiting for you to reply to a question. Yet that is exactly what people expect you to be able to do. | Graeme Simsion | ||
| 52c1309 | Rosie and I were on our way to New York, where being weird is acceptable. | Graeme Simsion | ||
| 63e9116 | Watch some kids, watch them play. You'll see they're just little adults, only they don't know all the rules and tricks yet. | Graeme Simsion | ||
| 9cfb0bd | I can just imagine what the humidity has done to my hair. I'm going to meet your family looking like a poodle with a live wire shoved up its butt." - Paige Winterbourne" | humour paige-winterbourne | Kelley Armstrong | |
| b4af12e | Hello, Aaron," Brigid said, sliding up to him and running a finger down his chest. "You're looking good . . . as always." Aaron lifted her finger off his shirt and let it drop. "Put some clothing on, Brigid." She smiled up at him. "Why? Tempted?" "Yeah, to cover my eyes." | Kelley Armstrong | ||
| 9e54a43 | Love and hate. Same passion. Same impulse | Kelley Armstrong | ||
| 9b730de | How long could we do this before you started bitching?" Simon said as we turned down another street of apartment buildings. "What?" "We've been walking for two days now, and you haven't complained once. It's damned annoying, you know." I looked at him. "If you don't complain, then I can't complain. Not without sounding like a whiny little snot." | Kelley Armstrong | ||
| e7005cc | You will leave her alone," Gabriel said. "One way or another." "That sounds like a death threat, Walsh." "Then you lack imagination." -- | kelley-armstrong james gabriel threat | Kelley Armstrong | |
| 1532604 | There is no freedom from the prison of the mind | Kelley Armstrong | ||
| 913862e | She did not look anything like a horned horse, as unicorns are often pictured, being smaller and cloven-hoofed, and possessing that oldest, wildest grace that horses have never had, that deer have only in a shy, thin imitation and goats in dancing mockery. | Peter S. Beagle | ||
| f07894f | I love you, more, I think, than I know, but our kind of love isn't a sword. It's a light. Not a fire. A small light, just bright enough to read love letters by and keep the animals at a growling distance. In time it will go out. All lights go out. So do all fires, if it's any comfort. Love me, and look at me, and remember me, as I'll remember you. | love remember-me | Peter S. Beagle |