Discover new books on Goodreads
Meet your next favorite book
“Belief, like fear or love, is a force to be understood as we understand the theory of relativity and principals of uncertainty. Phenomena that determine the course of our lives. Yesterday, my life was headed in one direction. Today, it is headed in another. Yesterday, I believe I would never have done what I did today. These forces that often remake time and space, that can shape and alter who we
imagine ourselves to be, begin long before we are born and continue after we perish. Our lives and our choices, like quantum trajectories, are understood moment to moment. That each point of intersection, each encounter, suggest a new potential direction. Proposition, I have fallen in love with Luisa Rey. Is this possible? I just met her and yet, I feel like something important has happened to me.”
― Cloud Atlas
imagine ourselves to be, begin long before we are born and continue after we perish. Our lives and our choices, like quantum trajectories, are understood moment to moment. That each point of intersection, each encounter, suggest a new potential direction. Proposition, I have fallen in love with Luisa Rey. Is this possible? I just met her and yet, I feel like something important has happened to me.”
― Cloud Atlas
“I wish I had the talent to paint the way I feel about you, for my words always feel inadequate. I imagine using red for your passion and pale blue for your kindness; forest green to reflect the depth of your empathy and bright yellow for your unflagging optimism. And still I wonder: can even an artist’s palette capture the full range of what you mean to me?”
― The Longest Ride
― The Longest Ride
“I am not a graceful person. I am not a Sunday morning or a Friday sunset. I am a Tuesday 2 a.m., gunshots muffled by a few city blocks, I am a broken window during February. My bones crack on a nightly basis. I fall from elegance with a dull thud, and I apologize for my awkward sadness. I sometimes believe that I don’t belong around people, that I belong to all the leap days that didn’t happen. The way light and darkness mix under my skin has become a storm. You don’t see the lightning, but you hear the echoes.”
―
―
“You are water, whirling water,
Yet still water trapped within,
Come, submerge yourself within us,
We who are the flowing stream.”
― Love: The Joy That Wounds: The Love Poems of Rumi
Yet still water trapped within,
Come, submerge yourself within us,
We who are the flowing stream.”
― Love: The Joy That Wounds: The Love Poems of Rumi
“Elodin pointed down the street. "What color is that boy's shirt?"
"Blue."
"What do you mean by blue? Describe it."
I struggled for a moment, failed. "So blue is a name?"
"It is a word. Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts. There are seven words that will make a person love you. There are ten words that will break a strong man's will. But a word is nothing but a painting of a fire. A name is the fire itself."
My head was swimming by this point. "I still don't understand."
He laid a hand on my shoulder. "Using words to talk of words is like using a pencil to draw a picture of itself, on itself. Impossible. Confusing. Frustrating." He lifted his hands high above his head as if stretching for the sky. "But there are other ways to understanding!" he shouted, laughing like a child. He threw both arms to the cloudless arch of sky above us, still laughing. "Look!" he shouted tilting his head back. "Blue! Blue! Blue!”
― The Name of the Wind
"Blue."
"What do you mean by blue? Describe it."
I struggled for a moment, failed. "So blue is a name?"
"It is a word. Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts. There are seven words that will make a person love you. There are ten words that will break a strong man's will. But a word is nothing but a painting of a fire. A name is the fire itself."
My head was swimming by this point. "I still don't understand."
He laid a hand on my shoulder. "Using words to talk of words is like using a pencil to draw a picture of itself, on itself. Impossible. Confusing. Frustrating." He lifted his hands high above his head as if stretching for the sky. "But there are other ways to understanding!" he shouted, laughing like a child. He threw both arms to the cloudless arch of sky above us, still laughing. "Look!" he shouted tilting his head back. "Blue! Blue! Blue!”
― The Name of the Wind
Chicks On Lit
— 5188 members
— last activity Oct 25, 2026 07:24AM
(Est. Feb 14, 2008) More than a reading group of women but a place for honest, respectful, intelligent conversations led by adult women. Discussions a ...more
May’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at May’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
1,625 books
|
331 friends
1,232 books
|
451 friends
13 books
|
83 friends
74 books
|
134 friends
30 books
|
8 friends
4,163 books
|
251 friends
512 books
|
44 friends
144 books
|
254 friends
More friends…
Favorite Genres
Polls voted on by May
Lists liked by May