Beatrice

Add friend
Sign in to Goodreads to learn more about Beatrice.

https://www.goodreads.com/bbtris

Canne al vento
Beatrice is currently reading
Rate this book
Clear rating

progress: 
 
  (page 143 of 236)
Dec 22, 2025 04:50AM

 
Loading...
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

Virginia Woolf
“When, however, one reads of a witch being ducked, of a woman possessed by devils, of a wise woman selling herbs, or even of a very remarkable man who had a mother, then I think we are on the track of a lost novelist, a suppressed poet, of some mute and inglorious Jane Austen, some Emily Bronte who dashed her brains out on the moor or mopped and mowed about the highways crazed with the torture that her gift had put her to. Indeed, I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.”
Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

Fyodor Dostoevsky
“My God! A whole minute of bliss! Is that really so little for the whole of a man's life?”
Fyodor Dostoyevsky, White Nights

Percy Bysshe Shelley
“If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?”
Percy Bysshe Shelley, Ode to the West Wind

Virginia Woolf
“Fiction is like a spider's web, attached ever so lightly perhaps, but still attached to life at all four corners.”
Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

179584 Our Shared Shelf — 223368 members — last activity Dec 16, 2025 12:22AM
OUR SHARED SHELF IS CURRENTLY DORMANT AND NOT MANAGED BY EMMA AND HER TEAM. Dear Readers, As part of my work with UN Women, I have started reading ...more
year in books
afloralrib
344 books | 12 friends

Isabela...
377 books | 30 friends

Gianlucaa
29 books | 3 friends

Axe
Axe
53 books | 6 friends

Manuel D.
26 books | 32 friends

Marilù ...
5 books | 8 friends

Una Vas...
1 book | 7 friends

Luca Br...
0 books | 5 friends

More friends…



Polls voted on by Beatrice

Lists liked by Beatrice