If they’d had Google Maps
in Milton’s era, I bet paradise would never have gotten
lost.
Some of my best friends I met in books. But then, I've
always been partial to tiny, extremely flat people.
“
But his
heart was in a constant, turbulent riot. The most grotesque and
fantastic conceits haunted him in his bed at night. A universe
of ineffable gaudiness spun itself out in his brain while the
clock ticked on the wash-stand and the moon soaked with wet
light his tangled clothes upon the floor. Each night he added
to the pattern of his fancies until drowsiness closed down upon
some vivid scene with an oblivious embrace. For a while these
reveries provided an outlet for his imagination; they were a
satisfactory hint of the unreality of reality, a promise that
the rock of the world was founded securely on a fairy’s
wing.
—F Scott Fitzgerald | ‘The Great Gatsby’
—F Scott Fitzgerald | ‘The Great Gatsby’
i lie to myself all the time.
But I never believe me.
Because to influence a person is to give him one's own soul. He does not think his natural thoughts, or burn with his natural passions. His virtues are not real to him. His sins, if there are such things as sins, are borrowed. He becomes an echo of someone else's music, an actor of a part that has not been written for him."
Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
my bookmark
is looking
for
a book.
any
suggestions?
I identify very strongly with Nick Carraway. My life is my own
and the novel is centred around me, but it's not really. I am
the protaganist, but I'm not the hero; instead, I exist to
serve witness to the great, the unfathomable. I am here to follow
the great around, to see it through fresher eyes, here to stay
when Rome falls to ruins. Maybe one day I will tell tales of the
Gatsby that I lived to experience, and maybe nobody will believe
me. Maybe I'll be the only one to believe in my Gatsby. Maybe
I will attend the funeral of the experience alone. Certainly,
though, I feel that I exist just to attend it.
your name is EVE and you live in the GARDEN of EDEN.
Your life is PRETTY GRAND and you WANT for NOTHING,
and all you taste is SWEET;
still, you feel as though there is MORE.
What will you choose - BLISS or FREEDOM?
> EAT THE FRUIT?
—
Your name is HELEN and you live in the KINGDOM of BATTLES
You are a QUEEN and you are OUTRAGEOUSLY BEAUTIFUL,
still, your KISS is heavy with WAR and not LOVE
You’ve been careful your whole life, and there is no REWARD
What will you choose - PEACE or FREEDOM?
> BOARD THE SHIP?
—
Your name is GUINEVERE and you live in a HOLY LAND
Your PAST is worth a PENNY and your PRESENT worth a CROWN,
still, all that’s YOURS is only YOURSELF.
Your husband has no use for it, but it is all you have to GIVE.
What will you choose - FAITH or FREEDOM?
> FOLLOW LANCELOT?
—
Your name is OPHELIA and you live in NOTHINGNESS
Everything is FALLEN APART and everything is LOST.
FLOWERS and DEATH are SYNONYMOUS,
still, men talk of a HAPPY END.
What will you choose - HOPE or FREEDOM?
> CLIMB THE WILLOW?
—
Your name is SUSAN and you do not live in NARNIA
You were once a SAVIOR and a WARRIOR
and now they say you are JUST a GIRL. They are WRONG. You have never been ‘just’ anything.
What will you choose - NOSTALGIA or FREEDOM?
> LOSE YOUR TRAIN TICKET?
--[ RPGS, OR RELENTLESSLY PERSISTENT
GIRLS ] H.E.H.
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.
