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Fyodor Dostoyevsky

It was a wonderful night, such a night as is only possible when we are young, dear reader. ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, from “White Nights,” White Nights and Other Stories: The Novels of Fyodor Dostoevsky, Volume X. (CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, November 16, 2016) Story originally published 1848.

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British Culture · British Literature · Classic · Collection · Excerpt · Gothic · Horror · Magical Realism · Mystery · Passage · Postmodernism · Quote · Short Stories

Angela Carter

She herself is a haunted house. She does not possess herself; her ancestors sometimes come and peer out of the windows of her eyes and that is very frightening. She has the mysterious solitude of ambiguous states; she hovers in a no-man’s land between life and death, sleeping and waking. — Angela Carter, from “The… Continue reading Angela Carter

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British Culture · British Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fantasy · Fiction · Horror · Passage · Quote · Short Stories

Neil Gaiman

In a perfect world, you could fuck people without giving them a piece of your heart. And every glittering kiss and every touch of flesh is another shard of heart you’ll never see again.” —  Neil Gaiman, Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders. (William Morrow; First Edition edition, September 26, 2006)

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Classic · Collection · Excerpt · German Culture · German Literature · Passage · Poetry · Short Stories

Rainer Maria Rilke

but after long, rain-filled afternoons come the golden sun-drenched newer hours, before which, on distant housefronts, all the wounded windows flee fearfully with beating wings. Then it grows still. Even the rain runs more softly over the stones’ quietly darkening gleam. All noises slip entirely away into the brushwood’s glimmering buds. — Rainer Maria Rilke,… Continue reading Rainer Maria Rilke

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American Culture · American Literature · Autobiographical · Biographical · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Essay · Excerpt · Memoir · Non-fiction · Passage · Quote · Short Stories

Joan Didion

We are not idealized wild things. We are imperfect mortal beings, aware of that mortality even as we push it away, failed by our very complication, so wired that when we mourn our losses we also mourn, for better or for worse, ourselves. As we were. As we are no longer. As we will one… Continue reading Joan Didion

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