Chiara C.
https://www.goodreads.com/SleepingMoon
progress:
(page 105 of 560)
"La notte ci avrebbe colti alla ricerca affannosa della liberazione." — Feb 18, 2013 01:56AM
"La notte ci avrebbe colti alla ricerca affannosa della liberazione." — Feb 18, 2013 01:56AM
Chiara C.
is currently reading
progress:
(page 60 of 271)
"The abrupt jolt into other flesh. Matrix gone, a wave of sound and color... She was moving through a crowded street [...] For a few frightened seconds he fought helplessly to control her body. Then he willed himself into passivity, became the passenger behind her eyes." — Apr 16, 2015 09:17AM
"The abrupt jolt into other flesh. Matrix gone, a wave of sound and color... She was moving through a crowded street [...] For a few frightened seconds he fought helplessly to control her body. Then he willed himself into passivity, became the passenger behind her eyes." — Apr 16, 2015 09:17AM
“What's done cannot be undone.”
― Macbeth
― Macbeth
“So fair and foul a day I have not seen.”
― Macbeth
― Macbeth
“All causes shall give way: I am in blood
Stepp’d in so far that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o’er.”
― Macbeth
Stepp’d in so far that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o’er.”
― Macbeth
“Come, you spirits
That tend on mortal thoughts! Unsex me here,
And fill me from the crown to the toe top full
Of direst cruelty; make thick my blood,
Stop up the access and passage to remorse,
That no compunctious visitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
The effect and it! Come to my woman’s breasts,
And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,
Wherever in your sightless substances
You wait on nature’s mischief! Come, thick night,
And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,
That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,
Nor Heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
To cry "Hold, hold!”
― Macbeth
That tend on mortal thoughts! Unsex me here,
And fill me from the crown to the toe top full
Of direst cruelty; make thick my blood,
Stop up the access and passage to remorse,
That no compunctious visitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
The effect and it! Come to my woman’s breasts,
And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,
Wherever in your sightless substances
You wait on nature’s mischief! Come, thick night,
And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,
That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,
Nor Heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
To cry "Hold, hold!”
― Macbeth
“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
Chiara’s 2025 Year in Books
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