denitsa

Add friend
Sign in to Goodreads to learn more about denitsa.


The Bee Sting
denitsa is currently reading
bookshelves: currently-reading
Rate this book
Clear rating

 
На изток от рая
Rate this book
Clear rating

progress: 
 
  (page 203 of 604)
Jun 05, 2025 09:14AM

 
The Unabridged Jo...
Rate this book
Clear rating

 
Loading...
Margaret Atwood
“There is the staircase,
there is the sun.
There is the kitchen,
the plate with toast and strawberry jam,
your subterfuge,
your ordinary mirage.

You stand red-handed.
You want to wash yourself in earth, in rocks and grass

What are you supposed to do
with all this loss?

In the daylight we know
what's gone is gone,
but at night it's different.
Nothing gets finished,
not dying, not mourning;
the dead repeat themselves, like clumsy drunks
lurching sideways through the doors
we open to them in sleep;
these slurred guests, never entirely welcome,
even those we have loved the most,
especially those we have loved the most,
returning from where we shoved them
away too quickly:
from under the ground, from under the water,
they clutch at us, they clutch at us,
we won't let go.”
Margaret Atwood

Emily Brontë
“He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”
Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

Osamu Dazai
“I thought, “I want to die. I want to die more than ever before. There’s no chance now of a recovery. No matter what sort of thing I do, no matter what I do, it’s sure to be a failure, just a final coating applied to my shame. That dream of going on bicycles to see a waterfall framed in summer leaves—it was not for the likes of me. All that can happen now is that one foul, humiliating sin will be piled on another, and my sufferings will become only the more acute. I want to die. I must die. Living itself is the source of sin.”
Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human

Gillian Flynn
“For several years, I had been bored. Not a whining, restless child's boredom (although I was not above that) but a dense, blanketing malaise. It seemed to me that there was nothing new to be discovered ever again. Our society was utterly, ruinously derivative (although the word derivative as a criticism is itself derivative). We were the first human beings who would never see anything for the first time. We stare at the wonders of the world, dull-eyed, underwhelmed. Mona Lisa, the Pyramids, the Empire State Building. Jungle animals on attack, ancient icebergs collapsing, volcanoes erupting. I can't recall a single amazing thing I have seen firsthand that I didn't immediately reference to a movie or TV show. A fucking commercial. You know the awful singsong of the blasé: Seeeen it. I've literally seen it all, and the worst thing, the thing that makes me want to blow my brains out, is: The secondhand experience is always better. The image is crisper, the view is keener, the camera angle and the soundtrack manipulate my emotions in a way reality can't anymore. I don't know that we are actually human at this point, those of us who are like most of us, who grew up with TV and movies and now the Internet. If we are betrayed, we know the words to say; when a loved one dies, we know the words to say. If we want to play the stud or the smart-ass or the fool, we know the words to say. We are all working from the same dog-eared script.

It's a very difficult era in which to be a person, just a real, actual person, instead of a collection of personality traits selected from an endless Automat of characters.

And if all of us are play-acting, there can be no such thing as a soul mate, because we don't have genuine souls.

It had gotten to the point where it seemed like nothing matters, because I'm not a real person and neither is anyone else.

I would have done anything to feel real again.”
Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

James Joyce
“You made me confess the fears that I have. But I will tell you also what I do not fear. I do not fear to be alone or to be spurned for another or to leave whatever I have to leave. And I am not afraid to make a mistake, even a great mistake, a lifelong mistake and perhaps as long as eternity too.”
James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

29774 Bulgaria reads — 5802 members — last activity 1 hour, 24 min ago
Група за дискутиране на книги на български език.
year in books
Nick Moore
581 books | 34 friends

Marina
2,469 books | 158 friends

Димитър...
244 books | 31 friends

Kristin
139 books | 15 friends

Daliya
39 books | 4 friends

Daria
315 books | 38 friends

Dani
237 books | 8 friends

Niky31
886 books | 19 friends

More friends…

Favorite Genres



Polls voted on by denitsa

Lists liked by denitsa