Erin

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The Universe in V...
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This Is Why We Ca...
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by Naomi Wood (Goodreads Author)
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No More Tears: Th...
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Antoine Laurain
“That was exactly what Tabucchi was suggesting with his title ("La Nostalgie du Possible") --that we can pass right by something very important: love, a job, moving to another city or another country. Or another life. 'Pass by' and at the same time be 'so close' that sometimes, while in that state of melancholy that is akin to hypnosis, we can, in spite of everything, manage to grab little fragments of what might have been. Like catching snatches of a far-off radio frequency. The message is obscure, yet by listening carefully you can still catch snippets of the soundtrack of the life that never was. You hear sentences that were never actually said, you hear footsteps echoing in places you've never been to, you can make out the surf on a beach whose sand you have never touched. You hear the laughter and loving words of a woman though nothing ever happened between you. The idea of an affiar with her had crossed your mind. Perhaps she would have liked that --probably, in fact-- but nothing every happened. For some unknown reason, we never gave in to the exquisite vertigo that you feel when you move those few centimeters towards the face of the other for the first kiss.”
Antoine Laurain, The Red Notebook

Sheila Heti
“The lonely fill up their lives with books. I don’t live in nature. I don’t live in culture. I don’t live in my relationships. I live in books. What good can all the books of the world be, penned by the loneliest men who ever lived?”
Sheila Heti, Motherhood

Patrick deWitt
“He was a pile of American garbage and she feared she would love him forever.”
Patrick deWitt, French Exit

Marcel Proust
“A little tap on the window pane, as though something had struck it, followed by a plentiful light falling sound, as of grains of sand being sprinkled from a window overhead, gradually spreading, intensifying, acquiring a regular rhythm, becoming fluid, sonorous, musical, immeasurable, universal: it was the rain.”
Marcel Proust, Swann’s Way

Sheila Heti
“To fit oneself into the smallest spaces in the hopes of being loved -that is entirely womanly”
Sheila Heti, Motherhood

year in books
Anna
470 books | 40 friends

Megan
2,841 books | 109 friends

Nathan
7,007 books | 317 friends

Aga Wala
2,058 books | 36 friends

Erin Moran
344 books | 59 friends

Kalyn
1,072 books | 23 friends

M
M
339 books | 76 friends

Isabel ...
693 books | 356 friends

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