“Teach the ignorant as much as you can; society is culpable in not providing a free education for all and it must answer for the night which it produces. If the soul is left in darkness sins will be committed. The guilty one is not he who commits the sin, but he who causes the darkness.”
― Les Misérables
― Les Misérables
“A child can teach an adult three things: to be happy for no reason, to always be busy with something, and to know how to demand with all his might that which he desires.”
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“After all, Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.”
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“What more should I say, but that the Miller would not his words forebear for any man, and told his vulgar tale in his own way. I regret that I must repeat it here and, therefore, of every refined person I pray, for the love of God, think not that I speak with evil intent, but I must relate all the stories as they are told, be they better or worse, or else be untrue to myself and my design. And, therefore, he who wishes not to read it, turn over the leaf and choose another tale. For he shall find enough, great and small, of historical matters that touch upon gentility, and also morality and holiness. Blame me not if you should choose amiss.”
― The Canterbury Tales
― The Canterbury Tales
“My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.”
― Shakespeare's Sonnets
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.”
― Shakespeare's Sonnets
Imogen’s 2025 Year in Books
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