Kelsey

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Any Man
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Freedom
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Design of Everyda...
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Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut
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Lies My Teacher Told Me by James W. Loewen
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Heretics Anonymous by Katie Henry
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Daughter in Retrograde by Courtney Kersten
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Any Man by Amber Tamblyn
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Paper Girls, Vol. 1 by Brian K. Vaughan
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Our Numbered Days by Neil Hilborn
Our Numbered Days
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Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut
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Paper Girls, Vol. 1 by Brian K. Vaughan
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More of Kelsey's books…
W.S. Merwin
“Separation

Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.”
W.S. Merwin

Carson McCullers
“We are homesick most for the places we have never known.”
Carson McCullers

José Martí
“Cultivo una rosa blanca,
En julio como en enero,
Para el amigo sincero
Que me da su mano franca.
Y para el cruel que me arranca
El corazon con que vivo,
Cardo ni oruga cultivo
Cultivo una rosa blanca.

I have a white rose to tend
In July as in January;
I give it to the true friend
Who offers his frank hand to me.
And to the cruel one whose blows
Break the heart by which I live,
Thistle nor thorn do I give:
For him, too, I have a white rose.”
José Martí, Versos Sencillos: Simple Verses

Rainer Maria Rilke
“Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.”
Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

Pablo Neruda
“I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.”
Pablo Neruda

179584 Our Shared Shelf — 216753 members — last activity 4 hours, 59 min ago
Dear Readers, As part of my work with UN Women, I have started reading as many books and essays about equality as I can get my hands on. There is so m ...more
58827 Brain Pain — 1240 members — last activity Jul 27, 2018 06:38AM
NOTE: This group is intermittently active, but you are welcome to revive past discussions if you're currently reading any of those books. We read chal ...more
75460 The Year of Reading Proust — 1569 members — last activity Jul 30, 2018 11:58AM
2013 was the year for reading—or re-reading—Marcel Proust's À la recherche du temps perdu or In Search of Lost Time for many of us. However, these thr ...more
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