Cait

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Soldiers and King...
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The Essex Serpent
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The Adventures of...
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  (page 458 of 1648)
"#7 The Black Island … Tintin adorable scottish outfit … Snowy getting zooted … This is my fave so far 😊" Jan 26, 2026 05:30PM

 
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Lorraine Hansberry
“Child, when do you think is the time to love somebody the most? When they done good and made things easy for everybody? Well then, you ain't through learning-because that ain't the time at all...when you starts measuring somebody, measure him right, child, measure him right. Make sure you done taken into account what hills and valleys he come through before he got to wherever he is.”
Lorraine Hansberry, A Raisin in the Sun

Norman Rush
“For me love is like this: you're in one room or apartment which you think is fine, then you walk through a door and close it behind you and find yourself in the next apartment, which is even better, larger, more floorspace, a better view. You're happy there and then you go into the next apartment and close the door and this one is even better. And the sequence continues, but with the odd feature that although this has happened to you a number of times, you forget: each time your new quarters are manifestly better and each time it's breathtaking, a surprise, something you've done nothing to deserve or make happen. You never intend to go from one room onward to the next—it just happens. You notice a door, you go through, and you're delighted again.”
Norman Rush, Mating

Samuel Beckett
“That's how it is on this bitch of an earth.”
Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot
tags: life

E.M. Forster
“Why can't we be friends now?" said the other, holding him affectionately. "It's what I want. It's what you want." But the horses didn't want it — they swerved apart: the earth didn't want it, sending up rocks through which riders must pass single file; the temple, the tank, the jail, the palace, the birds, the carrion, the Guest House, that came into view as they emerged from the gap and saw Mau beneath: they didn't want it, they said in their hundred voices "No, not yet," and the sky said "No, not there.”
E.M. Forster, A Passage to India

year in books
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