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Reya Zaveri

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Book cover for St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves
It’s weird: our grief is cyclical, synced with the lunar cycles. It accordions out as the moon slivers away. On new-moon nights, it rises with the tide.
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David  Mitchell
“Run across a field of daisies at warp speed but keep your eyes on the ground. It's ace. Pedaled stars and dandelion comets streak the green universe.”
― David Mitchell, Black Swan Green

Aldous Huxley
“Impulse arrested spills over, and the flood is feeling, the flood is passion, the flood is even madness: it depends on the force of the current, the height and strength of the barrier. The unchecked stream flows smoothly down its appointed channels into a calm well being.”
― Aldous Huxley, Brave New World

David  Mitchell
“If you show someone something you've written, you give them a sharpened stake, lie down in your coffin, and say, ‘When you’re ready’.”
― David Mitchell, Black Swan Green

Sylvia Plath
“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.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

David  Mitchell
“Lavender's my favorite scent, after White-Out and bacon rind. I sat down on the steps, not sure where to go next.
A July afternoon yawned.
Mirage puddles'd shimmered on the Welland road as I rode here.
I could've gone to sleep on the baked doorstep.
Little naked ants.”
― David Mitchell, Black Swan Green

year in books
nadia
885 books | 171 friends

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415 books | 83 friends

Shaishvi
461 books | 142 friends

Ameet Z...
697 books | 10 friends

Katrina
152 books | 16 friends

Hannah ...
1,372 books | 217 friends

Upasana
163 books | 115 friends

Monika
957 books | 275 friends

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