pick⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Finished last night, and while I do think it was predictable, it was an entertaining read. Hawkins is great with fear and emotion, and has the best insight into alcoholism I've seen in a long time.
By that time so many of the fatuous young men had acquired dignity through death in France and the Dardenelles, that these records of my dances with them seemed like the incongruous souvenirs of a long-vanished and half-forgotten world
Scars are just another kind of memory
"...it is a glory and a privilege to love what Death doesn‘t touch.”
I know. I was there. I saw the great void in your soul, and you saw mine.
Ehen the Great War broke out, it came to me not as a superlative tragedy, but as an interruption of the most exasperating kind to my personal plans.
We are not youth any longer. We don‘t want to take the world by storm. We are fleeing. We fly from ourselves. From our life. We were eighteen and had begun to love life and the world; and we had to shoot it to pieces.
A few Penguin favorites for yesterday's World Penguin Day #worldpenguinday @penguinrandomhouse
A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended
"There are such things as ghosts. People everywhere have always known that. And we believe in them every bit as much as Homer did. Only now, we call them by different names. Memory. The unconscious."
so-soIt's not that these are bad books, but not every book is for every person. And these were not for me...
Does such a thing as 'the fatal flaw,' that showy dark crack running down the middle of a life, exist outside literature? I used to think it didn't. Now I think it does. And I think that mine is this: a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.
pickThey've got to let go, drift apart. That's how it is with us. It's a shame, Kath, because we've loved each other all our lives. But in the end, we can't stay together forever...
Just as hauntingly beautiful the second time
Could it be because it reminds us that we are alive, of our mortality, of our individual souls- which, after all, we are too afraid to surrender but yet make us feel more miserable than any other thing? But isn't it also pain that often makes us most aware of self
I saw a new world coming rapidly... But a harsh, cruel, world. And I saw a little girl, her eyes tightly closed, holding to her breast the old kind world, one that she knew in her heart could not remain, and she was holding it and pleading, never to let her go
Memories, even your most precious ones, fade surprisingly quickly. But I don‘t go along with that. The memories I value most, I don‘t ever see them fading.
When he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun
