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“People speak because they are afraid of silence. They speak mechanically whether aloud or to themselves. They are intoxicated by this vocal gruel that ensnares every object and every being. They talk about rain and fine weather; they talk about money, about love, about nothing. And even when they are talking about their most exalted love, they use words uttered a hundred times, threadbare phrases.”
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―
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”
―
―
“What I like in a good author is not what he says, but what he whispers.”
― All trivia: Trivia, More trivia, Afterthoughts, Last words
― All trivia: Trivia, More trivia, Afterthoughts, Last words
“It struck me as pretty ridiculous to be called Mr. Darcy and to stand on your own looking snooty at a party. It's like being called Heathcliff and insisting on spending the entire evening in the garden, shouting "Cathy" and banging your head against a tree.”
― Bridget Jones’s Diary
― Bridget Jones’s Diary
“An offering for the sake of offering, perhaps. Anyhow, it was her gift. Nothing else had she of the slightest importance; could not think, write, even play the piano. She muddled Armenians and Turks; loved success; hated discomfort; must be liked; talked oceans of nonsense: and to this day, ask her what the Equator was, and she did not know.
All the same, that one day should follow another; Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday; that one should wake up in the morning; see the sky; walk in the park; meet Hugh Whitbread; then suddenly in came Peter; then these roses; it was enough. After that, how unbelievable death was!-that it must end; and no one in the whole world would know how she had loved it all; how, every instant . . .”
― Mrs. Dalloway
All the same, that one day should follow another; Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday; that one should wake up in the morning; see the sky; walk in the park; meet Hugh Whitbread; then suddenly in came Peter; then these roses; it was enough. After that, how unbelievable death was!-that it must end; and no one in the whole world would know how she had loved it all; how, every instant . . .”
― Mrs. Dalloway
The Balcony of Europe: A Novel Group
— 35 members
— last activity Aug 14, 2014 01:52PM
This group was inspired by our love for European literary fiction. We are mainly interested in exploring minor gems from the Modernist era to the pres ...more
Dorothy Richardson
— 79 members
— last activity Oct 28, 2023 10:32AM
A group for all things related to the life and work of this criminally neglected Modernist genius who died alone, forgotten and poverty-stricken, in 1 ...more
Virago Modern Classics
— 385 members
— last activity 20 hours, 14 min ago
But once a woman stole the initiative, plundered the perquisites and took the lead, what happened to the globe? The fabric cracked [Daphne du Maurier] ...more
Homer's The Odyssey, translated by Emily Wilson
— 200 members
— last activity Mar 27, 2024 03:17AM
In this group, we will read and discuss Emily Wilson's new translation of Homer's The Odyssey, published in November 2017 by Norton. We also welcome d ...more
Kelly’s 2024 Year in Books
Take a look at Kelly’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
1,324 books
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136 friends
1,193 books
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231 friends
9,418 books
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657 friends
3,501 books
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348 friends
4,417 books
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1,151 friends
1,717 books
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89 friends
6,014 books
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746 friends
787 books
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103 friends
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