This blog is dedicated to literature, whether well known or obscure.
"What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms…or the memory of a brother’s smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy."
Reblogged from thisisjustabookblog :
I wish I had lovely bookshelves to take pictures of, but I have one tiny bookshelf that’s crammed full of books and then loads of boxes scattered in my room stuffed full of them
I want them on display but I don’t have the space or the money for a bigger bookshelf
Reblogged from travellersfarfromhome :
"After a time, it seemed that the world inside the books became my world. So when I thought of my childhood, it was dandelion wine and ice cream on a summer porch, like Ray Bradbury, and catching catfish with Huck Finn. My own memories receded and the book memories became the real memories, far more than the outside, far more even than in here."
Reblogged from susanandherbooks :
Reblogged from zeusyimhome :
A woman who hates you is playing the pianoforte.
You have five hundred a year. From who? Five hundred what? No one knows. No one cares. You have it. It’s yours. Every year. All five hundred of it.
A charming man attempts to flirt with you. This is terrible.
You are in a garden, and you are astonished."
Reblogged from therubyrevolution :
"You won’t allow me to go to school.
I won’t become a doctor.
One day you will be sick."
Poem written by an 11 year old Afghan girl
This poem was recorded in a NYT magazine article about female underground poetry groups in Afghanistan. An amazing article about the ways in which women are using a traditional two line poetry form to express their resistance to male oppression, their feelings about love (considered blasphemous).
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