Claire Bergethon

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The Odyssey
Claire Bergethon is currently reading
by Homer
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Apr 05, 2026 08:51PM

 
The Lightning Thief
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Feb 21, 2026 01:43PM

 
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Book cover for Sonnets from the Portuguese and Other Poems
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? ’
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Sylvia Plath
“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.”
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Ralph Waldo Emerson
“I cannot remember the books I've read any more than the meals I have eaten; even so, they have made me.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Virginia Woolf
“When you consider things like the stars, our affairs don't seem to matter very much, do they?”
Virginia Woolf

E.B. White
“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. ”
E.B. White, Here Is New York

Rainer Maria Rilke
“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.”
Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

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