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“What is evil neither can nor should be loved; for it is not one’s duty to be a lover of evil or to become like what is bad; and we have said that like is dear to like. Must the friendship, then, be forthwith broken off? Or is this not so in all cases, but only when one’s friends are incurable in their wickedness? If they are capable of being reformed one should rather come to the assistance of their character or their property, inasmuch as this is better and more characteristic of friendship. But a man who breaks off such a friendship would seem to be doing nothing strange; for it was not to a man of this sort that he was a friend; when his friend changed, therefore, and he is unable to save him, he gives him up.”
― The Nicomachean Ethics
― The Nicomachean Ethics
“That's the thing with time, isn't it? It's not all the same. Some days - some years - some decades - are empty. There is nothing to them. It's just flat water. And then you come across a year, or even a day, or an afternoon. And it is everything. It is the whole thing.”
― How to Stop Time
― How to Stop Time
“And the meaning of love, its power and happiness, consists in the fact that, in loving one person, you are liberated from others, from attraction and longing for them.”
― Лестница Якова
― Лестница Якова
“It was the softest bed she had ever lain in. But then, it was the only bed she had ever lain in.”
― The Underground Railroad
― The Underground Railroad
“Marsh is not swamp. Marsh is a space of light, where grass grows in water, and water flows into the sky. Slow-moving creeks wander, carrying the orb of the sun with them to the sea, and long-legged birds lift with unexpected grace—as though not built to fly—against the roar of a thousand snow geese. Then within the marsh, here and there, true swamp crawls into low-lying bogs, hidden in clammy forests. Swamp water is still and dark, having swallowed the light in its muddy throat. Even night crawlers are diurnal in this lair. There are sounds, of course, but compared to the marsh, the swamp is quiet because decomposition is cellular work. Life decays and reeks and returns to the rotted duff; a poignant wallow of death begetting life.”
― Where the Crawdads Sing
― Where the Crawdads Sing
Dan’s 2024 Year in Books
Take a look at Dan’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
141 books
|
46 friends
506 books
|
156 friends
147 books
|
48 friends
20 books
|
62 friends
161 books
|
129 friends
80 books
|
138 friends
29 books
|
51 friends
9 books
|
67 friends
More friends…
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