“By you, I am forever undone.”
― The Queen of Nothing
― The Queen of Nothing
“You are not fool’s gold, shining only under a particular light. Whomever you become, whatever you make yourself into, that is who you always were.”
― Educated
― Educated
“A golden cage is still a cage.”
― Circe
― Circe
“Forget about green-felt pool tables and red N-360s and white flowers on school desks; about smoke rising from tall crematorium smokestacks, and chunky paperweights in police interrogation rooms.
Death exists, not as the opposite but as a part of life.
Death exists - in a paperweight, in four red and white balls on a billiard table - and we go on living and breathing it into our lungs like fine dust.
I had understood death as something entirely separate from and independent of life. This had seemed to me the simple, logical truth. Life is here, death is over there. I am here, not over there.
But death was a fact, a serious fact, no matter how you looked at it. Stuck inside this suffocating contradiction, I went on endlessly spinning in circles.”
― Norwegian Wood
Death exists, not as the opposite but as a part of life.
Death exists - in a paperweight, in four red and white balls on a billiard table - and we go on living and breathing it into our lungs like fine dust.
I had understood death as something entirely separate from and independent of life. This had seemed to me the simple, logical truth. Life is here, death is over there. I am here, not over there.
But death was a fact, a serious fact, no matter how you looked at it. Stuck inside this suffocating contradiction, I went on endlessly spinning in circles.”
― Norwegian Wood
“Tell me again what you said at the revel,” he says, climbing over me, his body against mine.
“What?” I can barely think.
“That you hate me,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Tell me that you hate me.”
“I hate you,” I say, the words coming out like a caress. I say it again, over and over. A litany. An enchantment. A ward against what I really feel. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”
He kisses me harder.
“I hate you,” I breathe into his mouth. “I hate you so much that sometimes I can’t think of anything else.”
― The Wicked King
“What?” I can barely think.
“That you hate me,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Tell me that you hate me.”
“I hate you,” I say, the words coming out like a caress. I say it again, over and over. A litany. An enchantment. A ward against what I really feel. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”
He kisses me harder.
“I hate you,” I breathe into his mouth. “I hate you so much that sometimes I can’t think of anything else.”
― The Wicked King
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Jade’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Jade’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
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