Page twenty-seven

RSS

He sighed profoundly. He sighed significantly. All Lily wished was that this enormous flood of grief, this insatiable hunger for sympathy, this demand that she should surrender herself up to him entirely, and even so he had sorrows enough to keep her supplied for ever, should leave her, should be diverted (she kept looking at the house, hoping for an interruption) before it swept her down in its flow.

- To The Lighthouse

She clutched at her blankets as a faller clutches at the turf on the edge of a cliff. Her eyes opened wide. Here she was again, she thought, sitting bolt upright in bed. Awake.

- To The Lighthouse (Virginia Woolf)

The war, people said, had revived their interest in poetry.

- To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf

All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others.

- To The Lighthouse - Virginia Woolf

Humble Bookperk Bundle Presented by HarperCollins Publishers

harperperennial:

thebookmunkie:

I just purchased this bundle. Nice collection!

There’s some Neil Gaiman, some Paulo Coelho…

oooo, i’m marking this as relevant to my interests.

crownpublishing:

catsandtheirhumans:

distractions (by {cindy}

Squeeeeee!


my cat likes books tolerably well, but is against cuddling or showing signs of affection towards me ):

crownpublishing:

catsandtheirhumans:

distractions (by {cindy}

Squeeeeee!

beta books

my cat likes books tolerably well, but is against cuddling or showing signs of affection towards me ):

Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness.

- From Virginia Woolf’s final note to her husband, Leonard (via straymessages)

What desire can be contrary to nature since it was given to man by nature itself?

- Michel Foucault, Madness and Civilization: A History of Insanity in the Age of Reason (via vintageanchorbooks)

Aug 6

Wilfred Owen, "Anthem for Doomed Youth"

classicpenguin:

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, —
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing…

always reblog. 

Aug 6

onthestrand:

Love these rejected cover designs for the US edition of Lydia Davis’s short story collection, Can’t and Won’t

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/08/05/cant-and-wont-lydia-davis_n_5648702.html

only got into Davis very recently. Need to procure this.