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“He said the pleasantest manner of spending a hot July day was lying from morning till evening on a bank of heath in the middle of the moors, with the bees humming dreamily about among the bloom, and the larks singing high up overhead, and the blue sky and bright sun shining steadily and cloudlessly. That was his most perfect idea of heaven's happiness: mine was rocking in a rustling green tree, with a west wind blowing, and bright white clouds flitting rapidly above; and not only larks, but throstles, and blackbirds, and linnets, and cuckoos pouring out music on every side, and the moors seen at a distance, broken into cool dusky dells; but close by great swells of long grass undulating in waves to the breeze; and woods and sounding water, and the whole world awake and wild with joy. He wanted all to lie in an ecstasy of peace; I wanted all to sparkle and dance in a glorious jubilee. I said his heaven would be only half alive; and he said mine would be drunk: I said I should fall asleep in his; and he said he could not breathe in mine”
― Wuthering Heights
― Wuthering Heights
“Una de ellas preguntó en voz alta cómo podía ser que una flor oliera de esa forma, y otra que era una sabionda contestó que algunas flores son polinizadas por las moscas y por eso tienen que oler a carne podrida: para atraerlas. Pero no por eso dejan de ser hermosas y magnéticas, capaces de dejar mudas a un grupo de travestis que ejercen su íntimo ritual de bautismos”
― Bad Girls
― Bad Girls
“Tell your secret to the wind, but don’t blame it for telling the trees.”
― A Thousand Splendid Suns
― A Thousand Splendid Suns
“Al het oude was eens nieuw, en al het nieuwe zal eens oud zijn. Het alleroudste is het heden, want er is nooit iets anders geweest dan het heden. Nooit heeft iemand in het verleden geleefd, en in de toekomst leeft ook niemand.”
― The Discovery of Heaven
― The Discovery of Heaven
“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
― The Bell Jar
― The Bell Jar
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