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How to Read World...
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A Book of Middle ...
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A Pale View of Hills
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Mike is now friends with Jonathan Runde
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What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami
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The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka
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Mike is on page 113 of 201 of The Metamorphosis
The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka
The Metamorphosis
by Franz Kafka
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Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
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I liked it. I have a thing against these star ratings, because I don't feel like I can be objective in the moment.
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The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster
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Fear and Trembling by Johannes de Silentio
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Kinda the opposite approach to Judith Butler. Rather than using incredibly difficult language to describe fairly simple concepts, Kierkegaard used fairly simple language to describe incredibly difficult concepts. I think I may have reached the limit ...more
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How to Read World Literature by David Damrosch
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A Book of Middle English by J.A. Burrow
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Cormac McCarthy
“They rode out along the fenceline and across the open pastureland. The leather creaked in the morning cold. They pushed the horses into a lope. The lights fell away behind them. They rode out on the high prairie where they slowed the horses to a walk and the stars swarmed around them out of the blackness. They heard somewhere in that tenantless night a bell that tolled and ceased where no bell was and they rode out on the round dais of the earth which alone was dark and no light to it and which carried their figures and bore them up into the swarming stars so that they rode not under but among them and they rode at once jaunty and circumspect, like thieves newly loosed in that dark electric, like young thieves in a glowing orchard, loosely jacketed against the cold and ten thousand worlds for the choosing.”
Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses

Cormac McCarthy
“He told the boy that although he was huérfano still he must cease his wanderings and make for himself some place in the world because to wander in this way would become for him a passion and by this passion he would become estranged from men and so ultimately from himself. He said that the world could only be known as it existed in men's hearts. For while it seemed a place which contained men it was in reality a place contained within them and therefore to know it one must look there and come to know those hearts and to do this one must live with men and not simply pass among them. He said that while the huérfano might feel that he no longer belonged among men he must set this feeling aside for he contained within him a largeness of spirit which men could see and that men would wish to know him and that the world would need him even as he needed the world for they were one. Lastly he said that while this itself was a good thing like all good things it was also a danger. Then he removed his hands from the boy's saddle and stepped away and stood. The boy thanked him for his words but he said that he was in fact not an orphan and then he thanked the women standing there and turned the horse and rode out. They stood watching him go. As he passed the last of the brush wickiups he turned and looked back and as he did so the old man called out to him. Eres, he said. Eres huérfano.”
Cormac McCarthy, The Crossing

Theodore Roethke
“What falls away is always. And is near.”
Theodore Roethke

Cormac McCarthy
“Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.”
Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses

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