Karolína
is currently reading
progress:
(page 211 of 256)
"this actually feels like getting your heart ripped apart" — 5 minutes ago
"this actually feels like getting your heart ripped apart" — 5 minutes ago
“If I knew that today would be the last time I’d see you, I would hug you tight and pray the Lord be the keeper of your soul. If I knew that this would be the last time you pass through this door, I’d embrace you, kiss you, and call you back for one more. If I knew that this would be the last time I would hear your voice, I’d take hold of each word to be able to hear it over and over again. If I knew this is the last time I see you, I’d tell you I love you, and would not just assume foolishly you know it already.”
―
―
“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.”
― A Moveable Feast
― A Moveable Feast
“A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.”
― Dubliners
― Dubliners
“When the short days of winter came, dusk fell before we had well eaten our dinners. When we met in the street the houses had grown sombre. The space of sky above us was the colour of ever-changing violet and towards it the lamps of the street lifted their feeble lanterns. The cold air stung us and we played till our bodies glowed. Our shouts echoed in the silent street.”
― Dubliners
― Dubliners
Haruki Murakami Cyber Book Club
— 71 members
— last activity Jul 29, 2014 05:21AM
I don't know about you, but I love Murakami's work. We will only read his work here. Please join! We will do a book every once in a while. ...more
Karolína’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Karolína’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
Favorite Genres
Polls voted on by Karolína
Lists liked by Karolína
















































