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City of Serpents
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by Christina Baehr (Goodreads Author)
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The Bible Recap: ...
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The Count of Mont...
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Aug 28, 2025 06:38AM

 
Book cover for The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion: Vol. 8
“I see, Miss Lion,” he said, “you have a new pocket.” I blinked. “How could you tell? I thought the folds hid it quite well.” “You’ve a confidence that only comes with such an acquisition.”
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Kate Chopin
“Why?" asked her companion. "Why do you love him when you ought not to?"
Edna, with a motion or two, dragged herself on her knees before Mademoiselle Reisz, who took the glowing face between her two hands.
"Why? Because his hair is brown and grows away from his temples; because he opens and shuts his eyes, and his nose is a little out of drawing; because he has two lips and a square chin, and a little finger which he can't straighten from having played baseball too energetically in his youth. Because - "
"Because you do, in short," laughed Mademoiselle.”
Kate Chopin, The Awakening
tags: love

Winston S. Churchill
“You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something, sometime in your life.”
Winston Churchill

Leigh Bardugo
“I imagine all wars look the same to those who die in them.”
Leigh Bardugo, Wonder Woman: Warbringer

Lauren Wolk
“At times, I was so confused that I felt like the stem of a pinwheel surrounded by whir and clatter, but through that whole unsettling time I knew that it simply would not do to hide in the barn with a book and an apple and let events plunge forward without me.”
Lauren Wolk, Wolf Hollow

Kate Chopin
“She was still under the spell of her infatuation. She had tried to forget him, realizing the inutility of remembering. But the thought of him was like an obsession, ever pressing itself upon her. It was not that she dwelt upon details of their acquaintance, or recalled in any special or peculiar way his personality; it was his being, his existence, which dominated her thought, fading sometimes as if it would melt into the mist of the forgotten, reviving again with an intensity which filled her with an incomprehensible longing.”
Kate Chopin, The Awakening

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