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“The library is a whispering post. You don't need to take a book off a shelf to know there is a voice inside that is waiting to speak to you, and behind that was someone who truly believed that if he or she spoke, someone would listen. It was that affirmation that always amazed me. Even the oddest, most peculiar book was written with that kind of courage -- the writer's belief that someone would find his or her book important to read. I was struck by how precious and foolish and brave that belief is, and how necessary, and how full of hope it is to collect these books and manuscripts and preserve them. It declares that stories matter, and so does every effort to create something that connects us to one another, and to our past, and to what is still to come.”
― The Library Book
― The Library Book
“Eliot took a drink of Southern Comfort, was uncomforted.”
― God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater
― God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater
“Greatness is nothing more nor less than the harmonious functioning of the faculties of the head and heart; the shorter the neck, the more closely these two organs approach one another; argal…It was convincing.”
― Crome Yellow
― Crome Yellow
“And they were laughing with such vigor, so genuinely moved, that Buster tried it out, to see what it felt like. He laughed and laughed and, though he did not yet know what the joke was, he hoped it would be worth the effort he'd already put into enjoying it.”
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“He thought of Anne, of love hopeless and unattainable. Perhaps that was the ideal kind of love, the hopeless kind—the quiet, theoretical kind of love. In this sad mood of repletion he could well believe it. He began to write. One elegant quatrain had flowed from beneath his pen:
“A brooding love which is at most
The stealth of moonbeams when they slide,
Evoking colour’s bloodless ghost,
O’er some scarce-breathing breast or side...”
when his attention was attracted by a sound from outside. He looked down from his window; there they were, Anne and Gombauld, talking, laughing together. They crossed the courtyard in front, and passed out of sight through the gate in the right-hand wall. That was the way to the green close and the granary; she was going to sit for him again. His pleasantly depressing melancholy was dissipated by a puff of violent emotion; angrily he threw his quatrain into the waste-paper basket and ran downstairs. “The stealth of moonbeams,” indeed!”
― Crome Yellow
“A brooding love which is at most
The stealth of moonbeams when they slide,
Evoking colour’s bloodless ghost,
O’er some scarce-breathing breast or side...”
when his attention was attracted by a sound from outside. He looked down from his window; there they were, Anne and Gombauld, talking, laughing together. They crossed the courtyard in front, and passed out of sight through the gate in the right-hand wall. That was the way to the green close and the granary; she was going to sit for him again. His pleasantly depressing melancholy was dissipated by a puff of violent emotion; angrily he threw his quatrain into the waste-paper basket and ran downstairs. “The stealth of moonbeams,” indeed!”
― Crome Yellow
Dystopian Society
— 1190 members
— last activity Jul 08, 2026 06:22AM
A book club for those of us who enjoy the Post-Apocalyptic/Dystopian genre. Each month there will be a poll so we can find out what our next book wi ...more
Tina’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Tina’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
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Art, Biography, Classics, Graphic novels, Historical fiction, History, Memoir, Music, Mystery, Non-fiction, Philosophy, Poetry, Psychology, Science, and Travel
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