Colleen

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Colleen is Currently Reading

Colleen is currently reading

"The Girl in the Window" and Other True Tales: An Anthology with Tips for Finding, Reporting, and Writing Nonfiction Narratives

by Lane DeGregory

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(page 109 of 284)
— May 25, 2026 09:13PM

May 04, 2026 02:33PM

“She has no memories of her mother but imagines her as white, a soundless brilliance. Her father radiates a thousand colors, opal, strawberry red, deep russet, wild green; a smell like oil and metal, the feel of a lock tumbler sliding home, the sound of his key rings chiming as he walks.”
― Anthony Doerr, All the Light We Cannot See

tags: color, description, father, imagination, imagine, memory, mother, senses

6 likes

“They seemed to get clearer views of life and duty up there among the everlasting hills; the fresh winds blew away desponding doubts, delusive fancies, and moody mists; the warm spring sunshine brought out all sorts of aspiring ideas, tender hopes, and happy thoughts; the lake seemed to wash away the troubles of the past, and the grand old mountains to look benignly down upon them, saying, 'Little children, love one another.”
― Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

1 likes

“I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.”
― D.H. Lawrence, The Complete Poems of D.H. Lawrence

tags: dh-lawrence, self-pity

1126 likes

“Someone -- likely madame -- opens a window, and the bright air of the sea washes onto the landing, stirring everything: Etienne's curtains, his papers, his dust, Marie-Laure's longing for her father.”
― Anthony Doerr, All the Light We Cannot See

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“The June roses over the porch were awake bright and early on that morning, rejoicing with all their hearts in the cloudless sunshine, like friendly little neighbors, as they were. Quite flushed with excitement were their ruddy faces, as they swung in the wind, whispering to one another what they had seen; for some peeped in at the dining-room windows, where the feast was spread, some climbed up to nod and smile at the sisters as they dressed the bride, others waved a welcome to those who came and went on various errands in garden, porch, and hall, and all, from the rosiest full-blown flower to the palest baby-bud, offered their tribute of beauty and fragrance to the gentle mistress who had loved and tended them for so long.”
― Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

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