kat Hollerith

Add friend
Sign in to Goodreads to learn more about kat.


Loading...
Libba Bray
“It's possible to pretend I'm someone other than who I am, and if I pretend long enough, I can believe it.”
Libba Bray, A Great and Terrible Beauty

Hermann Hesse
“O how incomprehensible everything was, and actually sad, although it was also beautiful. One knew nothing. One lived and ran about the earth and rode through forests, and certain things looked so challenging and promising and nostalgic: a star in the evening, a blue harebell, a reed-green pond, the eye of a person or a cow. And sometimes it seemed that something never seen yet long desired was about to happen, that a veil would drop from it all, but then it passed, nothing happened, the riddle remained unsolved, the secret spell unbroken, and in the end one grew old and looked cunning . . . or wise . . . and still one knew nothing perhaps, was still waiting and listening.”
Herman Hesse, Narcissus and Goldmund

Pascal Mercier
“That words could cause something in the world, make someone move or stop, laugh or cry: even as a child he had found it extraordinary and it never stopped impressing him. How did words do that? Wasn't it like magic?”
Pascal Mercier, Night Train to Lisbon

Hermann Hesse
“I believe . . . that the petal of a flower or a tiny worm on the path says far more, contains far more than all the books in the library. One cannot say very much with mere letters and words. Sometimes I'll be writing a Greek letter, a theta or an omega, and tilt my pen just the slightest bit; suddenly the letter has a tail and becomes a fish; in a second it evokes all the streams and rivers of the world, all that is cool and humid, Homer's sea and the waters on which Saint Peter wandered; or becomes a bird, flaps its tail, shakes out its feathers, puffs itself up, laughs, flies away. You probably don't appreciate letters like that, very much, do you, Narcissus? But I say: with them God wrote the world.”
Hermann Hesse, Narcissus and Goldmund

John Keats
“Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art—
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

Bright Star
John Keats, The Complete Poems

year in books
Arthur ...
720 books | 35 friends

Michael...
135 books | 126 friends

Misha Guy
9 books | 57 friends

Melissa...
8 books | 72 friends

Abbi La...
240 books | 74 friends

Laura R...
52 books | 102 friends

Mia
Mia
402 books | 122 friends

Shannon...
202 books | 39 friends

More friends…


Polls voted on by kat

Lists liked by kat