“Books are mirrors: you only see in them what you already have inside you.”
― The Shadow of the Wind
― The Shadow of the Wind
“There is a time in the life of every boy when he for the first time takes the backward view of life. Perhaps that is the moment when he crosses the line into manhood. The boy is walking through the street of his town. He is thinking of the future and of the figure he will cut in the world. Ambitions and regrets awake within him. Suddenly something happens; he stops under a tree and waits as for a voice calling his name. Ghosts of old things creep into his consciousness; the voices outside of himself whisper a message concerning the limitations of life. From being quite sure of himself and his future he becomes not at all sure. If he be an imaginative boy a door is torn open and for the first time he looks out upon the world, seeing, as though they marched in procession before him, the countless figures of men who before his time have come out of nothingness into the world, lived their lives and again disappeared into nothingness. The sadness of sophistication has come to the boy. With a little gasp he sees himself as merely a leaf blown by the wind through the streets of his village. He knows that in spite of all the stout talk of his fellows he must live and die in uncertainty, a thing blown by the winds, a thing destined like corn to wilt in the sun.”
― Winesburg, Ohio: A Group of Tales of Ohio Small Town Life
― Winesburg, Ohio: A Group of Tales of Ohio Small Town Life
“I see all of us reading ourselves away from ourselves,
straining in circles of light to find more light
until the line of words becomes a trail of crumbs
that we follow across a page of fresh snow”
― Sailing Alone Around the Room: New and Selected Poems
straining in circles of light to find more light
until the line of words becomes a trail of crumbs
that we follow across a page of fresh snow”
― Sailing Alone Around the Room: New and Selected Poems
“When will you learn that there isn't a word for everything?”
― The History of Love
― The History of Love
“Love is like a wind stirring the grass beneath trees on a black night,' he had said. 'You must not try to make love definite. It is the divine accident of life. If you try to be definite and sure about it and to live beneath the trees, where soft night winds blow, the long hot day of disappointment comes swiftly and the gritty dust from passing wagons gathers upon lips inflamed and made tender by kisses.”
― Winesburg, Ohio
― Winesburg, Ohio
Read With Jenna (Official)
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When anyone on the TODAY team is looking for a book recommendation, there is only one person to turn to: Jenna Bush Hager. Jenna will select a book a ...more
Molly’s 2025 Year in Books
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