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Wuthering Heights
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bookshelves: 2019, currently-reading
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read in December 2019
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Feb 12, 2026 09:13AM

 
Hamlet
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  (page 61 of 139)
Jan 20, 2026 08:48AM

 
Man and His Symbols
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  (page 40 of 415)
Aug 22, 2025 08:17AM

 
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Emily Brontë
“My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Healthcliff! He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.”
Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

Rainer Maria Rilke
“The only sadnesses that are dangerous and unhealthy are the ones that we carry around in public in order to drown them out with the noise; like diseases that are treated superficially and foolishly, they just withdraw and after a short interval break out again all the more terribly; and gather inside us and are life, are life that is unlived, rejected, lost, life that we can die of.”
Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

“A language is a dialect that has an army and a navy.”
Max Weinreich

Anaïs Nin
“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.”
Anais Nin

Donna Tartt
“It's a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? Euripides speaks of the Maenads: head thrown I back, throat to the stars, "more like deer than human being." To be absolutely free! One is quite capable, of course, of working out these destructive passions in more vulgar and less efficient ways. But how glorious to release them in a single burst! To sing, to scream, to dance barefoot in the woods in the dead of night, with no more awareness of mortality than an animal! These are powerful mysteries. The bellowing of bulls. Springs of honey bubbling from the ground. If we are strong enough in our souls we can rip away the veil and look that naked, terrible beauty right in the face; let God consume us, devour us, unstring our bones. Then spit us out reborn.”
Donna Tartt, The Secret History

106296 The F-word — 5766 members — last activity Jan 16, 2026 02:23PM
This is our reading group for anybody who loves to read and identifies as a feminist. We'll be reading a variety of books that may fall into one of th ...more
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