Sign in with Facebook
7,486 books
—
16,358 voters
Noga
is currently reading
progress:
(9%)
"Chapter 6. Don Quixote’s friends and family decide to burn his books of chivalry, the source of his madness. This feels an invasion, destroying something which ought to be precious to Don Quixote without his knowledge. The way in which they decide which books to burn and which to keep seems entirely arbitrary." — May 29, 2026 11:52PM
"Chapter 6. Don Quixote’s friends and family decide to burn his books of chivalry, the source of his madness. This feels an invasion, destroying something which ought to be precious to Don Quixote without his knowledge. The way in which they decide which books to burn and which to keep seems entirely arbitrary." — May 29, 2026 11:52PM
“Love is not a disease...I cannot let them cut you out of me, nor her either. I will cling to my sickness, if it is a sickness. I will hold it close to me like the sun.”
― Seraphina
― Seraphina
“(But he could not bring himself to say he loved her; not in so many words.)”
― Mrs. Dalloway
― Mrs. Dalloway
“Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.”
― Mrs. Dalloway
― Mrs. Dalloway
“And they went further and further from her, being attached to her by a thin
thread (since they lunched with her) which would stretch and stretch, get thinner and thinner as they walked across London; as if one´s friends were attached to one´s body, after lunching with them, by a thin thread, which (as dozed there) became hazy with the sond of bells, striking the hour or ringing to service, as a single spider´s thread is blotted with rain –drops, and, burdened, sags down. So she slept. And Richard Dalloway and Hugh Whithbread hesitated at the corner of Conduit Street at the very moment that Millicent Bruton, lying on the sofa, let the thread snap, snored.”
― Mrs. Dalloway
thread (since they lunched with her) which would stretch and stretch, get thinner and thinner as they walked across London; as if one´s friends were attached to one´s body, after lunching with them, by a thin thread, which (as dozed there) became hazy with the sond of bells, striking the hour or ringing to service, as a single spider´s thread is blotted with rain –drops, and, burdened, sags down. So she slept. And Richard Dalloway and Hugh Whithbread hesitated at the corner of Conduit Street at the very moment that Millicent Bruton, lying on the sofa, let the thread snap, snored.”
― Mrs. Dalloway
Noga’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Noga’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
Noga hasn't connected with their friends on Goodreads, yet.
Favorite Genres
Polls voted on by Noga
Lists liked by Noga