Sign in with Facebook
1,240 books
—
995 voters
“Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them.”
― Twelfth Night
― Twelfth Night
“The town has a sense, not of history, but of time, and the telephone poles seem to know this. If you lay your hand against one, you can feel the vibration from the wires deep within the wood, as if souls had been imprisoned in there and were struggling to get out.”
― ’Salem’s Lot
― ’Salem’s Lot
“Make me a willow cabin at your gate
And call upon my soul within the house;
Write loyal cantons of contemned love
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
Hallo your name to the reverberate hills
And make the babbling gossip of the air
Cry out "Olivia!" O, you should not rest
Between the elements of air and earth
But you should pity me”
―
And call upon my soul within the house;
Write loyal cantons of contemned love
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
Hallo your name to the reverberate hills
And make the babbling gossip of the air
Cry out "Olivia!" O, you should not rest
Between the elements of air and earth
But you should pity me”
―
“The library, to me, is the second most sacred physical space on the planet.”
―
―
“If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soe'er,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy
That it alone is high fantastical.”
― Twelfth Night
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soe'er,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy
That it alone is high fantastical.”
― Twelfth Night
Greg’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Greg’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
2,340 books
|
137 friends
273 books
|
85 friends
839 books
|
62 friends
1,863 books
|
53 friends
2,959 books
|
76 friends
624 books
|
100 friends
15,751 books
|
148 friends
385 books
|
54 friends
More friends…
Favorite Genres
Polls voted on by Greg
Lists liked by Greg
