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“Only the margin left to write on now. I love you, I love you, I love you.”
― I Capture the Castle
― I Capture the Castle
“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
“Contemplation seems to be about the only luxury that costs nothing.”
― I Capture the Castle
― I Capture the Castle
“Even a broken heart doesn't warrant a waste of good paper.”
― I Capture the Castle
― I Capture the Castle
“Yes, a dozen; and as many to the vantage as would store the world they play’d for. But I do think it is their husbands’ faults If wives do fall: say that they slack their duties And pour our treasures into foreign laps; Or else break out in peevish jealousies, Throwing restraint upon us; or say they strike us, Or scant our former having in despite; Why, we have galls; and though we have some grace, Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know Their wives have sense like them: they see and smell And have their palates both for sweet and sour, As husbands have. What is it that they do When they change us for others? Is it sport? I think it is: and doth affection breed it? I think it doth: is’t frailty that thus errs? It is so too. And have not we affections, Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have? Then let them use us well: else let them know The ills we do their ills instruct us so.”
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Victorians!
— 3833 members
— last activity 10 hours, 40 min ago
Some of the best books in the world were written and published in Great Britain between 1837 and 1901. What's not to love? Dickens, the Brontes, Co ...more
Women's Classic Literature Enthusiasts
— 1069 members
— last activity 12 hours, 35 min ago
This is a group for anyone interested in reading classical literature written by women.
Charlotte’s 2025 Year in Books
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