Think of this – that the writer wrote alone, and the reader read alone, and they were alone with each other. ― A.S. Byatt, Possession, (Vintage, October 1, 1991) Advertisements
I will have poetry in my life. And adventure. And love. Love above all. No… not the artful postures of love, not playful and poetical games of love for the amusement of an evening, but love that… overthrows life. Unbiddable, ungovernable – like a riot in the heart, and nothing to be done, come ruin… Continue reading Marc Norman
There comes a time when the world gets quiet and the only thing left is your own heart. So you’d better learn the sound of it. Otherwise you’ll never understand what it’s saying. — Sarah Dessen, Just Listen (Speak, 2008)
I’ve always loved you, and when you love someone, you love the whole person, just as he or she is, and not as you would like them to be. — Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina. (Norilana Books February 16, 2008) Originally published 1873.
No matter what you do this year or in the next hundred, you will be dead forever. — Gabriel García Márquez, Memories of My Melancholy Whores. (Vintage; Reprint edition, November 14, 2006)
She imagined herself both queen and slave, dominatrix and victim. In her imagination she was making love with men of all skin colors–white, black, yellow–with homosexuals and beggars. She was anyone’s, and anyone could do anything to her. She had one, two, three orgasms, one after another. She imagined everything she had never imagined before,… Continue reading Paulo Coelho
How wrong to think I was anyone else, like thinking grass stains make you a beautiful view, like getting kissed makes you kissable, like feeling warm makes you coffee, like liking movies makes you a director. How utterly incorrect to think it any other way, a box of crap is treasures, a boy smiling means… Continue reading Daniel Handler