Natasha Cobb

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Jenny Slate
“If I could remember anything, I would remember my belief that my extra love could just be used on myself.”
Jenny Slate, Little Weirds

Richard Matheson
“They sat there in the evening of the last day. And, though there was no actual point to it, they loved each other.”
Richard Matheson, The Best of Richard Matheson

Margaret Renkl
“The light catches in the bare branches of the maple and clothes it in a fleeting dream of autumn, all pink and auburn and gold. The cardinal perched near the top of the tree bursts into radiance, into flame, and for that moment nothing matters at all—not the still soil nor the clattering branches nor the way this redbird will fall to the ground in time, a cold stone, and I too will grow cold, and all my line.”
Margaret Renkl, Late Migrations: A Natural History of Love and Loss

Lisa Tuttle
“When I told my mother about the dream, she was puzzled. "But what's scary about that? You were never scared of that doll."
I shook my head, meaning that the doll I'd owned ⎯ and barely remembered ⎯ had never scared me. "But it was very scary," I said, meaning that the reappearance of it in my dream had been terrifying.
My mother looked at me, baffled. "But it's not scary," she said gently. I'm sure she was trying to make me feel better and thought this reasonable statement would help. She was absolutely amazed when it had the opposite result, and I burst into tears.
Of course she had no idea why, and of course I couldn't explain. Now I think ⎯ and of course I could be wrong ⎯ that what upset me was that I'd just realized that my mother and I were separate people. We didn't share the same dreams or nightmares. I was alone in the universe, like everybody else.”
Lisa Tuttle, My Death

Albert Camus
“and I satisfied the two thirsts one cannot long neglect without drying up—I mean loving and admiring. For there is merely bad luck in not being loved; there is misfortune in not loving. All of us, today, are dying of this misfortune. For violence and hatred dry up the heart itself; the long fight for justice exhausts the love that nevertheless gave birth to it. In the clamor in which we live, love is impossible and justice does not suffice.”
Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays

year in books
Marissa...
1,667 books | 66 friends

Andrea
408 books | 25 friends

Samanth...
1,020 books | 31 friends

Kelly
446 books | 5 friends

Amber
1,005 books | 76 friends

Chelsea
413 books | 112 friends

Sammie ...
649 books | 49 friends

Sean Edgar
81 books | 90 friends

More friends…
Rashōmon and Seventeen Other Stories by Ryūnosuke Akutagawa
Best Japanese Books
777 books — 3,252 voters

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