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Wordsworth did not exaggerate when he said that Mary Wollstonecraft was the most influential of Enlightenment radicals with the possible exception of William Blake.
“Tell me how you could say such a thing, she said, staring down at the ground beneath her feet. You're not telling me anything I don't know already. 'Relax your body, and the rest of you will lighten up.' What's the point of saying that to me? If I relaxed my body now, I'd fall apart. I've always lived like this, and it's the only way I know how to go on living. If I relaxed for a second, I'd never find my way back. I'd go to pieces, and the pieces would be blown away. Why can't you see that? How can you talk about watching over me if you can't see that?”
― Norwegian Wood
― Norwegian Wood
“In the mansion called literature I would have the eaves deep and the walls dark, I would push back into the shadows the things that come forward too clearly, I would strip away the useless decoration. I do not ask that this be done everywhere, but perhaps we may be allowed at least one mansion where we can turn off the electric lights and see what it is like without them.”
― In Praise of Shadows
― In Praise of Shadows
“-¿Cómo se permite usted, más bien, sostener aún que existen niños malos? Póngase de rodillas y pida perdón.”
― Cuentos escritos a máquina
― Cuentos escritos a máquina
“You are my sun,
my moon, and
all my stars.”
―
my moon, and
all my stars.”
―
“I lay and cried, and began to feel again, to admit I was human, vulnerable, sensitive. I began to remember how it had been before; how there was that germ of positive creativeness. Character is fate; and damn, I'd better work on my character. I had been withdrawing into a retreat of numbness: it is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch one. But my honest self revolted at this, hated me for doing this. Sick with conflict, destructive negative emotions, frozen into disintegration I was, refusing to articulate, to spew forth these emotions - they festered in me, growing big, distorted, like pus-bloated sores. Small problems, mentions of someone else's felicity, evidence of someone else's talents, frightened me, making me react hollowly, fighting jealousy, envy, hate. Feeling myself fall apart, decay, rot, and the laurels wither and fall away, and my past sins and omissions strike me with full punishment and import. All this, all this foul, gangrenous, sludge ate away at my insides. Silent, insidious.”
― The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
― The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
2016 Reading Challenge
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— last activity May 13, 2016 03:39AM
12 challenges over the course of the year! -a book published this year -a book you can finish in a day -a book recommended by your local librarian/bo ...more
Our Shared Shelf
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— last activity Apr 30, 2026 03:29PM
OUR SHARED SHELF IS CURRENTLY DORMANT AND NOT MANAGED BY EMMA AND HER TEAM. Dear Readers, As part of my work with UN Women, I have started reading ...more
Marina’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Marina’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
147 books
|
7 friends
554 books
|
145 friends
233 books
|
5 friends
71 books
|
1,741 friends
138 books
|
44 friends
6 books
|
65 friends
232 books
|
46 friends
117 books
|
54 friends
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