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A Dangerous Fortune
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by Ken Follett (Goodreads Author)
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Breakfast of Cham...
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Michael Cunningham
“It had seemed like the beginning of happiness, and Clarissa is still sometimes shocked, more than thirty years later, to realize that it was happiness; that the entire experience lay in a kiss and a walk, the anticipation of dinner and a book. The dinner is by now forgotten; Lessing has been long overshadowed by other writers; and even the sex, once she and Richard reached that point, was ardent but awkward, unsatisfying, ore kindly than passionate. What lives undimmed in Clarissa's ind more than three decades later is a kiss at dusk on a patch of dead grass, and a walk around a pond as mosquitoes droned in the darkening air. There is still that singular perfection, and it's perfect in part because it seemed, at the tie, so clearly to promise more. Now she knows: That was the moment, right then. There has been no other.”
Michael Cunningham, The Hours

Jeffrey Eugenides
“But maybe they understood more about life than I did. From an early age they knew what little value the world placed in books, and so didn't waste their time with them. Whereas I, even now, persist in believing that these black marks on white paper bear the greatest significance, that if I keep writing, I might be able to catch the rainbow of consciousness in a jar.”
Jeffrey Eugenides, Middlesex

“It is better to live your own destiny imperfectly than to live an imitation of somebody else's life with perfection.”
Anonymous, The Bhagavad Gita

Ian McEwan
“She raised one hand and flexed its fingers and wondered, as she had sometimes before, how this thing, this machine for gripping, this fleshy spider on the end of her arm, came to be hers, entirely at her command. Or did it have some little life of its own? She bent her finger and straightened it. The mystery was in the instant before it moved, the dividing moment between not moving and moving, when her intention took effect. It was like a wave breaking. If she could only find herself at the crest, she thought, she might find the secret of herself, that part of her that was really in charge.”
Ian McEwan, Atonement

Michael Cunningham
“There's just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we've ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) know these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning; we hope, more than anything, for more.”
Michael Cunningham, The Hours

year in books
Denise ...
1,101 books | 46 friends

Vanessa...
1,929 books | 69 friends

Annette
27 books | 53 friends

Maxwell...
73 books | 108 friends

Julie M...
117 books | 50 friends

Sarah
863 books | 44 friends

Julie M...
438 books | 35 friends

Jacquel...
89 books | 5 friends




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