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by completely coincidence and or divine intervention my following line up of books are all written by woman.
Happy women’s history month as i start with a beautiful introduction

“i told her to write what was in her heart, that so far as any effect upon myself was concerned, I was sick to death of ambiguities, and only wished to be known for what I was and to dwell with her in the palace of truth."

did not expect daddy issues in this book

“God knows how passionately attached to him I should have been if I had not felt constantly the presence of his restraining hand.

5 days is what it took for me to gain the confidence needed to pick up this book again. After having read a couple lines from the introduction i felt terribly afflicted by a sense of deep desperation cause by my appreciation for what i had read and mourning of not being the one who wrote it.

Anyways, I NEED carmillas hair

Think Le Fanu is my most read Gothic writer and each time i pick up one of his books i know il eat good

I love vampires, hihi

blue ink seeping trough each page, like mold eating a way at my flesh

I dont think i have ever been as Physically effected by a book before as i was just now. After reading a chapter during my break i stood up with my left leg feeling foreigner and my body having lost its bearing in various little ways that manifested as i got on with my tasks. I got up, felt little needles of light hit my eye balls and everything i did following my read was wrong, backwards or nonsensical.

I have noticed that I find great comfort in reading from a woman's perspective; I think it's because I allow myself to relate to them without being strangled by guilt. In this particular case (reading about an introverted person), I can see how much I'm strained past my inner self. Feeling such familiarity and comfortability in her behavior yet knowing that I often don't allow it myself anymore.

“A unique aura surrounded her, something like a special layer of light that gave her a brightness greater than the space around her”

These little black books have taught me how good and interesting writing don’t always necessarily coincide.

the most i felt while reading this was the surprise when i saw a Hard R

Im cheesing so much while reading this. Actively needing to free my face of the tension caused by my dimples contracting.

completely draining this book with notes and highlighter.

While reading the first few pages i started comparing it to ‘in the mood for loves’ yearning and desperation, and now as Maria is introduced every sentence of her is reinforcing that thought.

Kicking my feet while reading this

english version first and spanish version if i manage to find it:)

after watching the Paul Schrader movie i could not resist getting this book.
with just 24 pages my own writing mind has been stirred and i jotted down a couple passages.

I even read it out to customers at the bar and they were impressed!!

About the book: i like honda much more the kiyoaki. Happy we get to follow him.

do you understand," I shout at him, "do you understand that if you have the guillotine in the foreground and with such enthusiasm too, then it's merely because cutting off heads is the easiest thing of all, while to have an idea is the hardest of all!

This books is actually really really good, just sadly a bit busy and drowning in other art

The beauty of the original pages which are lost in translation are often most visible when the same stream of sentences or words are repeated just a little too closely to each other.

Tho, perhaps im wrong

‘I have rarely met a soul that burned more brightly and honestly. I shall never, ever forsake these radiant hopes, he would tell me with shining eyes. About his radiant hopes he would always speak quietly, sweetly, in almost a whisper, as if in secret.

800 pages excluding the introduction — absolutely horrific. Thought this would be a short read lol

All is wel however, Dostoyevsky has yet to let me down

‘ I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you - especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your frame. ‘

‘but there was ever in Mr Rochester (so at least I thought) such a wealth of the power of communicating happiness, that to taste but of the crumbs he scattered to stray and stranger birds like me was to feast genially’

‘ The eagerness of a listener quickens the the tongue of the narrator ‘

‘And you felt self-satisfied with the result of your ardent labours?’

‘‘Far from it. I was tormented by the contrast between my idea and my handiwork: in each case I had imagined something which I was quite powerless to realise’’

“Kiyoaki now realized that a fanatical insistence on total independence was a disease, not of the flesh but of the mind“

russians can write, we about to eat good