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Kosher Chinese: L...
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Set This House in...
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by Matt Ruff (Goodreads Author)
bookshelves: fiction, currently-reading
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  (page 161 of 496)
Dec 20, 2025 02:38PM

 
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Shirley Jackson
“Fear and guilt are sisters;”
Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House

Joanna Russ
“At thirteen desperately watching TV, curling my long legs under me, desperately reading books, callow adolescent that I was, trying (desperately!) to find someone in books, in movies, in life, in history, to tell me it was O.K. to be ambitious, O.K. to be loud, O.K. to be Humphrey Bogart (smart and rudeness), O.K. to be James Bond (arrogance), O.K. to be Superman (power), O.K. to be Douglas Fairbanks (swashbuckling), to tell me self-love was all right, to tell me I could love God and Art and Myself better than anything on earth and still have orgasms.”
Joanna Russ, The Female Man

Elisabeth Hewer
“I could do it. I could rip your life out like a fury, like a beast.
I could stand over you with my red hands
and lap the heart out of your hollow chest.
I'm a wolf, I'm a woman, I'm a building hurricane.
I'm whole-way sharp teeth, soul-sick wet claws.
I say "love me," and you say, "you're killing me."
I say, "i'd die for you," and you say," You'd kill for me—that's not the same thing.”
Elisabeth Hewer, Wishing for Birds

“Were there once only women warriors, Mother?” “Don’t know.” “Oh.” I started to get up. “Makes sense,” she said. “Why?” “Who else should take a life? No man ever brought a child out of his body.”
Catherine M. Wilson, The Warrior's Path

Victoria Schwab
“He was like one of those pictures full of small errors, the kind you could only pick out by searching the image from every angle, and even then, a few always slipped by. On the surface, Eli seemed perfectly normal, but now and then Victor would catch a crack, a sideways glance, a moment when his roommate's face and his words, his look and his meaning, would not line up. Those fleeting slices fascinated Victor. It was like watching two people, one hiding in the other's skin. And their skin was always too dry, on the verge of cracking and showing the color of the thing beneath.”
Victoria Schwab, Vicious

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