The cruelty of beautiful sentences



“Forgetting,” I said, “is probably as much a part of life as remembering. We’re all amnesiacs.” –page 18



la1This is so grotesquely overdue but wonderful bloggers Primrose and Jillian have generously included me in their Liebster award nominations several weeks back and can I just weep in gratefulness because I’m far from worthy of this and asdfghjk why are you guys so kind? Thank you so much for thinking of this humble little blog in spite of its inconsistencies. I’m glad I have this platform to share some of my thoughts on books and reading and most of all, to give a shoutout to the list of book-bloggers I admire and that absolutely includes the both of you!

I’ve been seeing this Liebster stuff everywhere and it feels so encouraging to finally be part of a tradition, that lovely sense of belonging in a community. Whether you are part of this list or not, this is a tribute to all of us who are bound together by our appetite for life and good books.

(Yeah: I am 200% aware of how much I officially suck. Seriously, my procrastination skills and inherent cheesiness are off-the-charts and just ugh how are you guys still so nice to me despite my perpetual non-existence and all-around sappiness?) Continue reading

Perks of Insanity


“Why are we here? Well, we’re peeking up the skirt of the ineffable now, and the answer is hidden by the poetic panties of language. We can’t formulate an answer because the question is its own answer. What’s going on? What’s going on. Existence exists. Division is a false dichotomy. Why does the universe exist? Because that’s what it does. It exists. It’s like asking why words mean anything, Because that’s what they are, what they do. Because we say so. Why is the universe here? Because it is, because it says so. It is what it is. I am who I am.”

-Tony Vigorito, Just a couple of days



“When I crossed the street, according to my mother, I still had to hold someone’s hand. At ten, I would be able to cross streets unhanded. I’d held on to Joseph’s many times before, for many years, but holding his was like holding a plant, and the disappointment of fingers that didn’t grasp back was so acute that at some point I’d opted to take his forearm instead. For the first few street crossings, that’s what I did, but on the corner at Oakwood, on an impulse, I grabbed George’s hand. Right away: fingers, holding back. The sun. More clustery vines of bougainvillea draping over windows in bulges of dark pink. His warm palm. An orange tabby lounging on the sidewalk. People in torn black T-shirts sitting and smoking on steps. The city, opening up. We hit the sidewalk, and dropped hands.

How I wished, right then, that the whole world was a street.”

-Aimee Bender, The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake

Emma & Gatsby


A little thing you’re yet to know about me: I immensely enjoy imagined, inter-book conversations between fictional characters. I find it so delightful to have these characters talking inside my head like they exist in one universe and time. This one is a personal favorite of mine, a token of boredom from one humid weekend evening last summer. It’s a conversation over coffee between Jane Austen’s Emma Woodhouse and F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Gatsby—sprinkled with mild sarcasm and playful banter about their respective stance on love that I find befitting for the fickle month of hearts.

Please note that all of these lines are taken straight from the books but I am in no way claiming any of these as my own with any intention to infringe on any copyrights. Continue reading