이윤지이윤지

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Lolita
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Human Acts
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The Carnivorous Lamb
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  (page 50 of 288)
Feb 09, 2025 04:18AM

 
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Madeline Miller
“Yet because I knew nothing, nothing was beneath me.”
Madeline Miller, Circe

Patrick Süskind
“…in that moment, as he saw and smelled how irresistible its effect was and how with lightning speed it spread and made captives of the people all around him—in that moment his whole disgust for humankind rose up again within him and completely soured his triumph, so that he felt not only no joy, but not even the least bit of satisfaction. What he had always longed for—that other people should love him—became at the moment of his achievement unbearable, because he did not love them himself, he hated them. And suddenly he knew that he had never found gratification in love, but always only in hatred—in hating and in being hated.”
Patrick Süskind, Perfume: The Story of a Murderer

Agustín Gómez Arcos
“Did Mother ever stop to think that those ‘’shadows’’ fell on me while I was still in her womb? That it was I who had chosen to leave them behind? Did she understand that I put off opening my eyes as an act of courage, so as not to mix up the world I was coming from with the one I was to live in?”
Agustín Gómez Arcos, The Carnivorous Lamb

Patrick Süskind
“He possessed the power. He held it in his hand. A power stronger than the power of money or the power of terror or the power of death: the invincible power to command the love of mankind. There was only one thing that power could not do: it could not make him able to smell himself.”
Patrick Süskind, Perfume: The Story of a Murderer

Catherynne M. Valente
“Koschei smiled. His pale lips sought hers, crushing her into a kiss like dying. She tasted sweetness there, as though he still kissed her with honey and sugar on his tongue. When he pulled away, his eyes shone.

"I don't care, Marya Morevna. Kiss him. Take him to your bed, and the vila, too, for all it matters to me. Do you understand me, wife? There need never be any rules between us. Let us be greedy together; let us hoard. Let us hit each other with birch branches and lock each other in dungeons; let us drink each other's blood in the night and betray each other in the sun. Let us lie and lust and take hundreds of lovers; let us dance until snow melts beneath us. Let us steal and eat until we grow fat and roll in the pleasures of life, clutching each other for purchase. Only leave me my death — let me hold this one thing sacred and unmolested and secret — and I will serve you a meal myself, served on a platter of all the world's bounty. Only do not leave me, swear that you will never leave me, and no empress will stand higher. Forget the girls in the factory. Be selfish and cruel and think nothing of them. I am selfish. I am cruel. My mate cannot be less than I. I will have you in my hoard, Marya Morevna, my black mirror.”
Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless

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