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Smaragdi Gt wants to read
The Principia by Isaac Newton
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A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking
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Animal Farm by George Orwell
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Farewell Waltz by Milan Kundera
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A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
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Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
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Smaragdi Gt wants to read
War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy
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Smaragdi Gt wants to read
The Death of Ivan Ilych by Leo Tolstoy
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More of Smaragdi's books…
Marilyn Monroe
“A wise girl kisses but doesn't love, listens but doesn't believe, and leaves before she is left.”
Marilyn Monroe

Charles Bukowski
“‎"she’ mad but she’
magic. there’ no lie in her fire.”
Charles Bukowski

Albert Einstein
“Black holes are where God divided by zero.”
Albert Einstein

Charles Bukowski
“You have to die a few times before you can really
live.”
Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last

Charles Bukowski
“I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny
blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny
they are small, and the fountain is in France
where you wrote me that last letter and
I answered and never heard from you again.
you used to write insane poems about
ANGELS AND GOD, all in upper case, and you
knew famous artists and most of them
were your lovers, and I wrote back, it’ all right,
go ahead, enter their lives, I’ not jealous
because we’ never met. we got close once in
New Orleans, one half block, but never met, never
touched. so you went with the famous and wrote
about the famous, and, of course, what you found out
is that the famous are worried about
their fame –– not the beautiful young girl in bed
with them, who gives them that, and then awakens
in the morning to write upper case poems about
ANGELS AND GOD. we know God is dead, they’ told
us, but listening to you I wasn’ sure. maybe
it was the upper case. you were one of the
best female poets and I told the publishers,
editors, “ her, print her, she’ mad but she’
magic. there’ no lie in her fire.” I loved you
like a man loves a woman he never touches, only
writes to, keeps little photographs of. I would have
loved you more if I had sat in a small room rolling a
cigarette and listened to you piss in the bathroom,
but that didn’ happen. your letters got sadder.
your lovers betrayed you. kid, I wrote back, all
lovers betray. it didn’ help. you said
you had a crying bench and it was by a bridge and
the bridge was over a river and you sat on the crying
bench every night and wept for the lovers who had
hurt and forgotten you. I wrote back but never
heard again. a friend wrote me of your suicide
3 or 4 months after it happened. if I had met you
I would probably have been unfair to you or you
to me. it was best like this.”
Charles Bukowski

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