Lucia Ferri

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Atomic Habits: An...
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Beryl Markham
“I have learned that if you must leave a place that you have lived in and loved and where all your yesteryears are buried deep, leave it any way except a slow way, leave it the fastest way you can. Never turn back and never believe that an hour you remember is a better hour because it is dead. Passed years seem safe ones, vanquished ones, while the future lives in a cloud, formidable from a distance.”
Beryl Markham, West with the Night

Sharon Maas
“She might be without country, without nation, but inside her there was still a being that could exist and be free, that could simply say I am without adding a this, or a that, without saying I am Indian, Guyanese, English, or anything else in the world.”
Sharon Maas, Of Marriageable Age

Walt Whitman
“Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)”
Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

Suzanne Collins
“Deep in the meadow, under the willow
a bed of grass, a soft green pillow
lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes
and when again they open, the sun will rise.
Hear it's safe, here it's warm
hear the daisies guard you from every harm
hear your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true
hear is the place where i love you.
Deep in the meadow, hidden far away
a clock of leaves, a moonbeam ray
forget your woes and let your troubles lay
and when again it's morning, they'll wash away.
Hear it's safe, hears its' warm
hear the daises guard you from every harm
Hear your dreams are sweet and tomorrow bring them true
hear is the place where i love you.”
Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games

Hugo Hamilton
“Maybe your country is only a place you make up in your own mind. Something you dream about and sing about. Maybe it's not a place on the map at all, but just a story full of people you meet and places you visit, full of books and films you've been to. I'm not afraid of being homesick and having no language to live in. I don't have to be like anyone else. I'm walking on the wall and nobody can stop me.”
Hugo Hamilton, The Speckled People: A Memoir of a Half-Irish Childhood

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