deniz eilmore

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One Day, Everyone...
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Babel
deniz eilmore is currently reading
by R.F. Kuang (Goodreads Author)
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  (page 282 of 544)
"i have been stuck on this page for so long now — is it even going anywhere? babel can't be saved by its characters because all of them, besides ramy, are immemorable." Nov 21, 2025 02:59AM

 
Essential Bukowsk...
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  (page 0 of 225)
"guys im trying real hard to be a pretentious cool girl but his language is just crude and violent without any poetic depth. like rupi kaur but for men in the 70s." Feb 25, 2025 10:04PM

 
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Donna Tartt
“For if the modern mind is whimsical and discursive, the classical mind is narrow, unhesitating, relentless. It is not a quality of intelligence that one encounters frequently these days. But though I can digress with the best of them, I am nothing in my soul if not obsessive.”
Donna Tartt, The Secret History

Ottessa Moshfegh
“I did crave attention, but I refused to humiliate myself by asking for it.”
Ottessa Moshfegh, My Year of Rest and Relaxation

Sylvia Plath
“The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence.”
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Sylvia Plath
“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Gillian Flynn
“I just think some women aren't made to be mothers. And some women aren't made to be daughters.”
Gillian Flynn, Sharp Objects

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