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So far, it's an insufferable never-ending whining. I found myself yelling at the book to shut up.

"But how can such courage be, and such faith in their own species? Very few things would teach such faith. " (p. 142)

"I got thinkin' how we was holy when we was one thing, and mankin' was holy when it was one thing. An' it on'y got unholy when one mis'able little fella got the bit in its teeth an' run off his own way, kickin' an' draggin' an' fightin'. But when they're all workin' together, one fella kind of harnessed to the whole shebang—that's right, that's holy."

"To the red country and part of the grey country of Oklahoma, the last rains came gently, and they did not cut the scarred earth... The surface of the earth crusted, a thin hard crust, and as the sky became pale, so the earth became pale, pink in the red country and white in the grey country."
So far 5/5.

I wish I hadn't watched the movie before. Now I hear Tom Hank's voice while I read this fantastic book. Ugh.

Footnotes containing fictional information are the most pretentious thing I've seen in a fiction book so far.

Why does every fantasy book have to be so. very. long. Genuine question to all fantasy fans out there, I want to understand. What is there to say that cannot be said in fewer pages?

"Is faithful translation impossible, then? Can we never communicate in integrity across time, across space?"

"The sun burned every day. It burned Time, [...] without any help from him. So if he burnt things with the firemen, and the sun burnt Time, that meant that everything burned!"
W** am I reading? Why do I feel like a 10-year-old would write whatever this is much better? I am so confused.

"WEEKLY REPORT.
Meg - Good.
Jo - Bad.
Beth - Very good.
Amy - Middling."

"Edinburgh shivers, and coughs - but it whispers, too."

"So it took an eight-year-old child to bring them to their sense, didn't it?"

Crying mode activated non-stop for the remaining pages

I cannot re-read this without thinking of Mr Darcy's Inner Struggles

"One by one, the dreamers came out of the shallow rifle pits like ghosts rising from the ground. Their long, dark braids were shagged with eyes, and their blankets were stiff with frozen snow. Behind them, the women sang the death chant for the warriors - Ollokot, Looking Glass, Poker Joe - the old people, and the children; all the Nez Perce that lay frozen under the elk robes."

"Danny stirred the fire and watched the sparks rise into the night sky. He remembered how his father had looked docking the sheep with Sammy. Away from the campfire, both men had seemed like dark shadows."

"What are you going to be when you grow up?"
"Older", Danny said.

"From North Africa to the Rhine there were too many D-Days, and for every one of them we had to get up in the middle of the night. The end of darkness always brought the beginning of death. But this invasion was different."

I would have never thought that a WW2 memoir by a war photographer could be as well funny, entertaining, and charming!

"The Sicilian campaign turned out to be a twenty-day race. In the lead was the Italian Army. The Germans were slower than the Italians, but they retreated steadily. Close on their heels came the jobless enemy alien, who in turn was chased by the whole public relations force of the American Army."

How did I not know this gorgeous classic before? So far I'm speechless, I'm absolutely loving it; let's see if it holds up.

"And I turn'd away to thee,
Proud Evening star,
In thy glory afar,
And dearer thy beam shall be;
For joy to my heart
Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heav'n at night,
Ad more I admire
Thy distant fire
Than that colder, lowly light."