Chandima Silva

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A Little Life
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by Hanya Yanagihara (Goodreads Author)
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Imagined Communit...
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The Story of a Br...
Chandima Silva is currently reading
by Anuk Arudpragasam (Goodreads Author)
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That's what the voices in your head are for, to get you through the silent
“That's what the voices in your head are for, to get you through the silent parts.”
David Levithan, Will Grayson, Will Grayson

Sylvia Plath
“I began to think vodka was my drink at last. It didn’t taste like anything, but it went straight down into my stomach like a sword swallowers’ sword and made me feel powerful and godlike.”
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Allen Ginsberg
“The closet door is open for me, where I left it, since I left it open, it has graciously stayed open.”
Allen Ginsberg, Howl and Other Poems

Sylvia Plath
“There is something demoralizing about watching two people get more and more crazy about each other, especially when you are the only extra person in the room. It's like watching Paris from an express caboose heading in the opposite direction--every second the city gets smaller and smaller, only you feel it's really you getting smaller and smaller and lonelier and lonelier, rushing away from all those lights and excitement at about a million miles an hour.”
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Gabriel García Márquez
“He dug so deeply into her sentiments that in search of interest he found love, because by trying to make her love him he ended up falling in love with her. Petra Cotes, for her part, loved him more and more as she felt his love increasing, and that was how in the ripeness of autumn she began to believe once more in the youthful superstition that poverty was the servitude of love. Both looked back then on the wild revelry, the gaudy wealth, and the unbridled fornication as an annoyance and they lamented that it had cost them so much of their lives to find the paradise of shared solitude. Madly in love after so many years of sterile complicity, they enjoyed the miracle of living each other as much at the table as in bed, and they grew to be so happy that even when they were two worn-out people they kept on blooming like little children and playing together like dogs.”
Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

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