Susan

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Cold Fire
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by Dean Koontz (Goodreads Author)
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Book cover for A Passage to India
The sky settles everything—not only climates and seasons, but when the earth shall be beautiful. By herself she can do little—only feeble outbursts of flowers. But when the sky chooses, glory can rain into the Chandrapore bazaars, or a ...more
Susan
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Susan is currently reading
Cold Fire by Dean Koontz
Cold Fire
by Dean Koontz (Goodreads Author)
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The Blue by Nancy Bilyeau
The Blue
by Nancy Bilyeau (Goodreads Author)
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Four Gospels, One Jesus? by Richard A. Burridge
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An interesting concept, I enjoyed reading as a beginning study into the parallelism or not of the gospels. However I found the style of writing quite ponderous and his reference to secular works, with an assumption that we followed his logic a bit an ...more
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The Blue by Nancy Bilyeau
The Blue
by Nancy Bilyeau (Goodreads Author)
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The Man Who Didn't Call by Rosie Walsh
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A proper love story

This is a tale of love. Not just about romance between two people, but of the love that is hard. Love that always exists in relationships, but is often buried under stuff. It is about the messiness of human life: the struggles of g
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The Muse by Jessie Burton
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Thunder and Lightning by Natalie Goldberg
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Tintinnabula by Margo Lanagan
Tintinnabula
by Margo Lanagan (Goodreads Author)
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The Muse by Jessie Burton
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A Honeybee Heart Has Five Openings by Helen Jukes
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A brilliant work in which the author slowly opens up her own heart and shares her fears with us through her year of bee-tending. It is evident that our world is changing, but hope should prevail and if not bees, we should all become carers and tender ...more
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Janet MacLeod Trotter
“Comrades!’ he bellowed. ‘There is a saying in our country that if you have one Calcuttan you have a poet; if you have two, you have a political party; and if you have three”
Janet MacLeod Trotter, The Secrets of the Tea Garden

Mark Twain
“went off, without waiting for serving men, and unsaddled my horse, and washed such portions of his ribs and his spine as projected through his hide, and when I came back, behold five stately circus tents were up—tents that were brilliant, within, with blue, and gold, and crimson, and all manner of splendid adornment! I was speechless. Then they brought eight little iron bedsteads, and set them up in the tents; they put a soft mattress and pillows and good blankets and two snow-white sheets on each bed. Next, they rigged a table about the centre-pole, and on it placed pewter pitchers, basins, soap, and the whitest of towels—one set for each man; they pointed to pockets in the tent, and said we could put our small trifles in them for convenience, and if we needed pins or such things, they were sticking every where. Then came the finishing touch—they spread carpets on the floor! I simply said, "If you call this camping out, all right—but it isn't the style I am used to; my little baggage that I brought along is at a discount." It grew dark, and they put candles on the tables—candles set in bright, new, brazen candlesticks. And soon the bell—a genuine, simon-pure bell—rang, and we were invited to "the saloon." I had thought before that we had a tent or so too many, but now here was one, at least, provided for; it was to be used for nothing but an eating-saloon. Like the others, it was high enough for a family of giraffes to live in, and was very handsome and clean and bright-colored within. It was a gem of a place. A table for eight, and eight canvas chairs; a table-cloth and napkins whose whiteness and whose fineness laughed to scorn the things we were used to in the great excursion steamer; knives and forks, soup-plates, dinner-plates—every thing, in the handsomest kind of style. It was wonderful! And they call this camping out. Those stately fellows in baggy trowsers and turbaned fezzes brought in a dinner which consisted of roast mutton, roast chicken, roast goose, potatoes, bread, tea, pudding, apples, and delicious grapes; the viands were better cooked than any we had eaten for weeks, and the table made a finer appearance, with its large German silver candlesticks and other finery, than any table we had sat down to for a good while, and yet that polite dragoman, Abraham, came bowing in and apologizing for the whole affair, on account of the unavoidable confusion of getting under way for a very long trip, and promising to do a great deal better in future! It is midnight, now, and we break camp at six in the morning. They call this camping out. At this rate it is a glorious privilege to be a pilgrim to the Holy Land.”
Mark Twain, The Innocents Abroad - Mark Twain [Modern library classics]

E.M. Forster
“She would only point out the salvation that was latent in his own soul, and in the soul of every man. Only connect! That was the whole of her sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer.”
E.M. Forster, Howards End

Amy Harmon
“Sitting for hours at my writing desk was not conducive to good health, and I’d found if I forced myself to exercise, it aided me in my writing. I ran and forced myself to do push-ups to keep my arms from wasting away and my back from growing a hump. The sweat, the motion, and the music that blared in my ears all contributed to getting me out of my head for a blessed hour. It shook off the brain fog and got the synapses firing, and I’d made it part of my daily schedule in the last ten years.”
Amy Harmon, What the Wind Knows

Bruce Mau
“When everything is connected to everything else, for better or worse, everything matters.”
Bruce Mau

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