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Horses of Fire
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What We Can Know
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by Ian McEwan (Goodreads Author)
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The Sealed Nectar...
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Madeline Miller
“I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell, I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”
Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“After all," Anne had said to Marilla once, "I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string.”
Lucy Maud Montgomery, Anne Of Avonlea

“Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one's life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one's side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps…perhaps...love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath.”
Lucy Maud Montgomery, Anne of the Island

Agnes Chew
“There are so many worlds we leave behind throughout the course of our lifetimes. I have often asked in futile indignation: how could our physical beings be here, when our hearts remain in another world, another life, another time – where we truly belong? The heart fights a valiant battle. Yet, it eventually finds itself bowing to the ineluctable reality of the farewell.

Life goes on. In our worlds. In the worlds of whom we have departed. Most of all, in the worlds we have left behind, in which part of us still lives on – forevermore.”
Agnes Chew, The Desire for Elsewhere

Alan Lightman
“One night of the year, as delicate and fleeting as a life in the universe.

Even though we struggle and howl against the brief flash of our lives, might we find something majestic in that brevity? Could there be a preciousness and value to existence stemming from the very fact of its temporary duration? And I think of the night-blooming cereus, a plant that looks like a leathery weed most of the year. But for one night each summer its flower opens to reveal silky white petals, which encircle yellow lacelike threads, and another whole flower like a tiny sea anemone within the outer flower. By morning, the flower has shriveled. One night of the year, as delicate and fleeting as a life in the universe.”
Alan Lightman, The Accidental Universe: The World You Thought You Knew

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