Sign in with Facebook
alice
https://www.goodreads.com/wrightbel
“I love deadlines. I love the whooshing noise they make as they go by.”
― The Salmon of Doubt: Hitchhiking the Galaxy One Last Time
― The Salmon of Doubt: Hitchhiking the Galaxy One Last Time
“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
“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.”
―
―
“To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”
― Macbeth
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”
― Macbeth
alice’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at alice’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
430 books
|
14 friends
1,453 books
|
2,155 friends
637 books
|
69 friends
289 books
|
216 friends
148 books
|
16 friends
421 books
|
41 friends
614 books
|
88 friends
215 books
|
13 friends
More friends…
Favorite Genres
Polls voted on by alice
Lists liked by alice
