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Feeding the Monst...
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  (page 49 of 228)
"So far, it’s more of an enumeration of horror films belonging to certain sub-genres and how they coincided with the zeitgeist than a psychological analysis. I hope this’ll go a little deeper and more into detail further on." 5 hours, 13 min ago

 
Christmas and Oth...
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  (page 138 of 410)
"Solely written as dialogue, “Last Drinks At Bondi Beach” is a peculiar, Australian vampire story. Not sure it’s my vibe, but it’s definitely off the beaten path. Very Garth Nix." Nov 24, 2025 03:50AM

 
Mistress of Lies
Papercuts1 is currently reading
by K.M. Enright (Goodreads Author)
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  (page 256 of 432)
"We’re triangle-smoldering in ballrooms now." Oct 07, 2025 12:27PM

 
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“Pretending you’re OK when you aren’t isn’t strength.”
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” Robin contradicted him. The champagne had fizzed on her tongue and seemed to give her courage even before it hit her brain. “Sometimes, acting as though you’re all right, makes you all right. Sometimes you’ve got to slap on a brave face and walk out into the world, and after a while it isn’t an act anymore, it’s who you are. If I’d waited to feel ready to leave my room after—you know,” she said, “I’d still be in there. I had to leave before I was ready.”
Robert Galbraith, Lethal White

Alexandre Dumas
“Pain, anguish and suffering in human life are always in proportion to the strength with which a man is endowed.”
Alexandre Dumas, The Man in the Iron Mask

“It was four in the morning, the hopeless hour when shivering insomniacs inhabit a world of hollow shadow, and existence seems frail and strange.”
Robert Galbraith, Lethal White

Ray Bradbury
“One day you discover you are alive.
Explosion! Concussion! Illumination! Delight!
You laugh, you dance around, you shout.
But, not long after, the sun goes out. Snow falls, but no one sees it, on an August noon.”
Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

“Neither of them could tell who had made the first move, or whether they acted in unison. They were holding each other tightly before they knew what happened, Robin's chin on Strike's shoulder, his face in her hair. He smelled of sweat, beer and surgical spirits, she, of roses and the faint perfume that he had missed when she was no longer in the office. The feel of her was both new and familiar, as though he had held her a long time ago, as though he had missed it without knowing it for year. Through the closed door upstairs the band playing on:

I'll go wherever you will go
If I could make you mine ...

Robert Galbraith, Lethal White

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