Molly

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Thinking with Type by Ellen Lupton
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The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt
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Wolf Hall / Bring Up the Bodies by Hilary Mantel
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Drinking Coffee Elsewhere by Z.Z. Packer
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Beat Generation by Jack Kerouac
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Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg by Jack Kerouac
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Book of Sketches by Jack Kerouac
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Orpheus Emerged by Jack Kerouac
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Wake Up by Jack Kerouac
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Windblown World by Jack Kerouac
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More of Molly's books…
Chuck Palahniuk
“Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I've ever known.”
Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters

Jeffrey McDaniel
“I realise there's something incredibly honest about trees in winter, how they're experts at letting things go.”
Jeffrey McDaniel

Jonathan Safran Foer
“He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was, happy. And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others--the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by the midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad.
Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated

William S. Burroughs
“Every man has inside himself a parasitic being who is acting not at all to his advantage.”
William S. Burroughs

Jeffrey McDaniel
“The Quiet World

In an effort to get people to look
into each other’s eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.


When she doesn’t respond,
I know she’s used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.”
Jeffrey McDaniel, Forgiveness Parade

Scott
176 books | 280 friends

Jenn
42 books | 1 friend




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