Felicity

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Brightening from ...
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Feeling Good: The...
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A Thousand Ships
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by Natalie Haynes (Goodreads Author)
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See all 10 books that Felicity is reading…
Book cover for The Night Circus
“Follow your dreams, Bailey,” she says. “Be they Harvard or something else entirely. No matter what that father of yours says, or how loudly he might say it. He forgets that he was someone’s dream once, himself.”
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Gabrielle Zevin
“There is a time for any fledgling artist where one's taste exceeds one's abilities. The only way to get through this period is to make things anyway.”
Gabrielle Zevin, Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

Charlotte Brontë
“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will, which I now exert to leave you.”
Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

Gabrielle Zevin
“What is a game?" Marx said. "It's tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. It's the possibility of infinite rebirth, infinite redemption. The idea that if you keep playing, you could win. No loss is permanent, because nothing is permanent, ever.”
Gabrielle Zevin, Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

Gabrielle Zevin
“Sadie, do you see this? This is a persimmon tree! This is my favorite fruit." Marx picked a fat orange persimmon from the tree, and he sat down on the now termite-free wooden deck, and he ate it, juice running down his chin. "Can you believe our luck?" Max said. "We bought a house with a tree that has my actual favorite fruit!"
Sam used to say that Marx was the most fortunate person he had ever met - he was lucky with lovers, in business, in looks, in life. But the longer Sadie knew Marx, the more she thought Sam hadn't truly understood the nature of Marx's good fortune. Marx was fortunate because he saw everything as if it were a fortuitous bounty. It was impossible to know - were persimmons his favorite fruit, or had hey just now become his favorite fruit because there they were, growing in his own backyard? He had certainly never mentioned persimmons before.”
Gabrielle Zevin, Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

Carol Ann Duffy
“So I was hard on the Beast, win or lose,
When I got upstairs, those tragic girls in my head,
Turfing him out of bed; standing alone
On the balcony, the night so cold I could taste the stars
On the tip of my tongue. And I made a prayer –
Thumbing my pearls, the tears of Mary, one by one,
Like a rosary – words for the lost, the captive beautiful,
The wives, those less fortunate than we.
The moon was a hand-mirror breathed on by a Queen.
My breath was a chiffon scarf for an elegant ghost.
I turned to go back inside. Bring me the Beast for the night.
Bring me the wine-cellar key. Let the less-loving one be me.

- an excerpt from Mrs. Beast -
Carol Ann Duffy, The World's Wife

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