Julia

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David Levithan
“It scares me how hard it is to remember life before you. I can't even make the comparisons anymore, because my memories of that time have all the depth of a photograph. It seems foolish to play games of better and worse. It's simply a matter of is and is no longer.”
David Levithan, The Lover's Dictionary

Sara Gruen
“With a secret like that, at some point the secret itself becomes irrelevant. The fact that you kept it does not.”
Sara Gruen, Water for Elephants

Margaret Atwood
“Falling in love, we said; I fell for him. We were falling women. We believed in it, this downward motion: so lovely, like flying, and yet at the same time so dire, so extreme, so unlikely. God is love, they once said, but we reversed that, and love, like heaven, was always just around the corner. The more difficult it was to love the particular man beside us, the more we believed in Love, abstract and total. We were waiting, always, for the incarnation. That word, made flesh.

And sometimes it happened, for a time. That kind of love comes and goes and is hard to remember afterwards, like pain. You would look at the man one day and you would think, I loved you, and the tense would be past, and you would be filled with a sense of wonder, because it was such an amazing and precarious and dumb thing to have done; and you would know too why your friends had been evasive about it, at the time.

There is a good deal of comfort, now, in remembering this.”
Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid's Tale
tags: love

David Levithan
“Trying to write about love is ultimately like trying to have a dictionary represent life. No matter how many words there are, there will never be enough.”
David Levithan, The Lover's Dictionary

Margaret Atwood
“I try to congure, to raise my own spirits, from wherever they are. I need to remember what they look like. I try to hold them still behind my eyes, their faces, like pictures in an album. But they won't stay still for me, they move, there's a smile and it's gone, their features curl and bend as if the paper's burning, blackness eats them. A glimpse, a pale shimmer on the air; a glow, aurora, dance of electrons, then a face again, faces. But they fade, though I stretch out my arms towards them, they slip away from me, ghosts at daybreak. Back to wherever they are. Stay with me, I want to say. But they won't.

It's my fault. I am forgetting too much.”
Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale

year in books
Gabriel...
376 books | 4 friends

Corinne...
772 books | 197 friends

Leigh L...
1,364 books | 756 friends

Katie Alli
124 books | 85 friends

Justin ...
341 books | 306 friends

Mara
3,263 books | 373 friends

Ben Reed
47 books | 72 friends

Angelic...
124 books | 94 friends

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