Sign in with Facebook
“Yet Byron never made tea as you do, who fill the pot so that when you put the lid on the tea spills over. There is a brown pool on the table--it is running among your books and papers. Now you mop it up, clumsily, with your pocket-hankerchief. You then stuff your hankerchief back into your pocket--that is not Byron; that is so essentially you that if I think of you in twenty years' time, when we are both famous, gouty and intolerable, it will be by that scene: and if you are dead, I shall weep.”
― The Waves
― The Waves
“What is he aching to do? What are we all aching to do? What do we want?” She didn’t know. She yawned. She was sleepy. It was too much. Nobody could tell. Nobody would ever tell. It was all over. She was eighteen and most lovely, and lost.”
― On the Road
― On the Road
“I begin to long for some little language such as lovers use, broken words, inarticulate words, like the shuffling of feet on pavement.”
― The Waves
― The Waves
“The love interest and climax would come when a man and a lady, both strangers, got to talking together on the train going back east.
"Well," said Mrs. Croot, for it was she, "what did you think of the Canyon?"
"Some cave," replied her escort.
"What a funny way to put it!" replied Mrs. Croot. "And now play me something.”
― How to Write Short Stories with Samples
"Well," said Mrs. Croot, for it was she, "what did you think of the Canyon?"
"Some cave," replied her escort.
"What a funny way to put it!" replied Mrs. Croot. "And now play me something.”
― How to Write Short Stories with Samples
“And it all came to pass, all that she had hoped, but it did not fill her with rapture nor carry her away with the power or the fervor she had expected. She had imagined it all different, and had imagined herself different, too. In dreams and poems everything had been, as it were, beyond the sea; the haze of distance had mysteriously veiled all the restless mass of details and had thrown out the large lines in bold relief, while the silence of distance had lent its spirit of enchantment. It had been easy then to feel the beauty; but now that she was in the midst of it all, when every little feature stood out and spoke boldly with the manifold voices of reality, and beauty was shattered as light in a prism, she could not gather the rays together again, could not put the picture back beyond the sea. Despondently she was obliged to admit to herself that she felt poor, surrounded by riches that she could not make her own.”
― Niels Lyhne
― Niels Lyhne
trisha’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at trisha’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
Favorite Genres
Polls voted on by trisha
Lists liked by trisha
