Helena

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Go Tell It on the...
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Persuasion
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Too Much of Life:...
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"Getting through this incredibly slowly on purpose because I would like it to last forever" Jan 29, 2026 01:18AM

 
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Edith Wharton
“He had built up within himself a kind of sanctuary in which she throned among his secret thoughts and longings. Little by little it became the scene of his real life, of his only rational activities; thither he brought the books he read, the ideas and feelings which nourished him, his judgments and his visions. Outside it, in the scene of his actual life, he moved with a growing sense of unreality and insufficiency, blundering against familiar prejudices and traditional points of view as an absent-minded man goes on bumping into the furniture of his own room.”
Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence

Edith Wharton
“What she craved and really felt herself entitled to was a situation in which the noblest attitude should also be the easiest.”
Edith Wharton, The House of Mirth

Jeanette Winterson
“They say that every snowflake is different. If that were true, how could the world go on? How could we ever get up off our knees? How could we ever recover from the wonder of it?

By forgetting. We cannot keep in mind too many things.
There is only the present and nothing to remember.”
Jeanette Winterson, The Passion

Jeanette Winterson
“Explore me,' you said and I collected my ropes, flasks and maps, expecting to be back home soon. I dropped into the mass of you and I cannot find the way out. Sometimes I think I’m free, coughed up like Jonah from the whale, but then I turn a corner and recognise myself again. Myself in your skin, myself lodged in your bones, myself floating in the cavities that decorate every surgeon’s wall. That is how I know you. You are what I know.”
Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body

Jeanette Winterson
“Sometimes I think of you and I feel giddy. Memory makes me lightheaded, drunk on champagne. All the things we did. And if anyone has said this was the price I would have agreed to pay it. That surprises me; that with the hurt and the mess comes a shift of recognition. It was worth it. Love is worth it.”
Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body

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tesni
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