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枕草子 [Makura no Sō...
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F. Scott Fitzgerald
“In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars.”
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Emily Brontë
“I cannot express it; but surely you and everybody have a notion that there is or should be an existence of yours beyond you. What were the use of my creation, if I were entirely contained here? My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning: my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it. My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.”
Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

F. Scott Fitzgerald
“There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams -- not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.”
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

F. Scott Fitzgerald
“Do you ever wait for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always wait for the longest day of the year and then miss it!”
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Betty  Smith
“She was made up of more, too. She was the books she read in the library. She was the flower in the brown bowl. Part of her life was made from the tree growing rankly in the yard. She was the bitter quarrels she had with her brother whom she loved dearly. She was Katie's secret, despairing weeping. She was the shame of her father stumbling home drunk. She was all of these things and of something more...It was what God or whatever is His equivalent puts into each soul that is given life - the one different thing such as that which makes no two fingerprints on the face of the earth alike.”
Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

year in books
Brian
1,910 books | 39 friends

Riley
185 books | 23 friends

Alina A...
320 books | 21 friends

Garima ...
44 books | 59 friends

Gaurab ...
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Kylan C...
358 books | 25 friends

Mary Zell
3,312 books | 10 friends

Saurav ...
43 books | 95 friends

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