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Of all the thoughts of God that are Borne inward into souls afar, Along the Psalmist’s music deep, Now tell me if that any is, For gift or grace, surpassing this: ‘ He giveth his belovèd—sleep? ’
“When you consider things like the stars, our affairs don't seem to matter very much, do they?”
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“Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.”
― Letters to a Young Poet
― Letters to a Young Poet
“I would rather live my life as if there is a god and die to find out there isn't, than live my life as if there isn't and die to find out there is.”
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“There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born here, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size and its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter — the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is the New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something.
...Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness; natives give it solidity and continuity; but the settlers give it passion. ”
― Here Is New York
...Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness; natives give it solidity and continuity; but the settlers give it passion. ”
― Here Is New York
“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
― The Bell Jar
― The Bell Jar
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Claire’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Claire’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
1,214 books
|
43 friends
883 books
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4,895 friends
380 books
|
25 friends
461 books
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43 friends
789 books
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296 friends
354 books
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2,130 friends
737 books
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13 friends
1,597 books
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36 friends
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