Llewey Watts 💫
is currently reading
progress:
(71%)
"“The Angel of Death looked on quietly. He would not be welcome for this moment, not when there was too much between the three of them still, but he knew someday, he would be again. One day, the four of them would be together in a home full of sunlight. Looking forward to that distant time, Philza finally felt peace.
Inside the tent, a golden-haired prince slept on.”
AW, what an angsty chapter." — Jun 09, 2021 04:12AM
"“The Angel of Death looked on quietly. He would not be welcome for this moment, not when there was too much between the three of them still, but he knew someday, he would be again. One day, the four of them would be together in a home full of sunlight. Looking forward to that distant time, Philza finally felt peace.
Inside the tent, a golden-haired prince slept on.”
AW, what an angsty chapter." — Jun 09, 2021 04:12AM
“All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.”
― Animal Farm
― Animal Farm
“Things usually work out in the end."
"What if they don't?"
"That just means you haven't come to the end yet.”
― The Glass Castle
"What if they don't?"
"That just means you haven't come to the end yet.”
― The Glass Castle
“We're all puppets, Laurie. I'm just a puppet who can see the strings.”
― Watchmen
― Watchmen
“O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.”
― Oh Captain! My Captain!
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.”
― Oh Captain! My Captain!
“And yet, in each human coupling, a thousand million sperm vie for a single egg.
Multiply those odds by countless generations, against the odds of your ancestors being alive; meeting; siring this precise son; that exact daughter… Until your mother loves a man she has every reason to hate, and of that union, of the thousand million children competing for fertilization, it was you, only you, that emerged. To distill so specific a form from that chaos of improbability, like turning air to gold… that is the crowning unlikelihood. The thermo-dynamic miracle.”
― Watchmen
Multiply those odds by countless generations, against the odds of your ancestors being alive; meeting; siring this precise son; that exact daughter… Until your mother loves a man she has every reason to hate, and of that union, of the thousand million children competing for fertilization, it was you, only you, that emerged. To distill so specific a form from that chaos of improbability, like turning air to gold… that is the crowning unlikelihood. The thermo-dynamic miracle.”
― Watchmen
Buddy Reads
— 1004 members
— last activity Nov 25, 2025 08:04AM
Welcome to the Buddy-Read Group! This group is to there to help us share our thoughts as we go through each book. Also to chat away and share non-bo ...more
Gentle SPECTRUMS
— 40 members
— last activity Oct 17, 2025 10:41PM
I am not doing reading challenges. Our dear Mom went to Heaven in January 2020. Son cat Spirit in January 2021, Daughter cat Marigold in June 2021, So ...more
Llewey’s 2024 Year in Books
Take a look at Llewey’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
More friends…
Favorite Genres
Polls voted on by Llewey
Lists liked by Llewey




























