merric4t > Recent Status Updates

Rich narrative so far. It tells a lot without overwhelming the reader. The storytelling flows smoothly—intriguing, easy to follow, and written evidently with a huge reservoir of inspiration and history.

Just the foreword is a heart-wrenching premise. Gibran's writing is the flowers on tombs—beautiful, reminiscent, and mournful.

This is gonna break my heart.

This feverish, unknown, and gaping in the dark feeling is one of things I seek in reading. Yes, this book is a dream incarnate, and I'm not even finished.

This is making me laugh out loud

The situation remains to be externally incomprehensible and internally understood. This book is making me cry for what it is.

How is this even possible. The writing is snatching my consciousness and I don't want anything but to allow it.

This put me down in the dumps but at the same time inspired me to go back to art, specifically drawing. I wonder whether I still know the colors and how to play with them.

I should have long given up trying to rack my brain as to what would happen next (because that doesn't make sense of course, we don't know what the hella is happening here). I'm deeply interested, spooked, dumbfounded, and happy with this book so far.

I'm quitting. Nothing's happening.

My heart. Levin you shine so bright my dark soul is getting uncomfortable.

Perhaps I expected too much from a book that caters two of my favorite subjects: vultures and death. The concept is good, as well as the "amount" of darkness I think it suppose to emit but the writing is a little bit off for me. I often get distracted because of some sentences' structure and too many similes & metaphors.

I was taken aback by the vividness of the 1st chapter. It will surely take me some time to get used to Steinbeck's writing but I can feel that it would be gratified.

On the beginning of chapter 9, there has been no indication that the scene was viewed by the character slowly, but Tolstoy's writing made me feel like every movement is serene, solemn, and genuine. I knew it by then, this is meant to be savored.

I have always been afraid of reading Shakespeare's works, mostly because of the memory of my younger years when I tried to read a passage and understood not a single thing. But now, I'm glad that I took the chance to begin this for the satisfaction is subpar. It turned out that my intimidation hindered me from seeing the beauty of his writing and my (ever-existing) passion for history. Anyway, Caesar just died.

I run out of highlighters

I can't stop laughing, this outrageous dinner conversation is so tragically comical it makes me happy