More about me...
Read them as well:
2006-08-28 - 9:32 a.m.
Gilded Age Pathos
She laid her other hand on his, and they looked at each other with a kind of solemnity, as though they stood in the presence of death. Something in truth lay dead between them--the love she had killed in him and could no longer call to life. But something lived between them also, and leaped up in her like an imperishable flame: it was the love his love had kindled, the passion of her soul for his.
~ Edith Wharton, The House of Mirth
The line below isn't on its surface particularly original or profound, but I found it very significant:
I picked up a paperback copy of Ethan Frome a couple of weeks ago. I remember hardly anything from my tenth-grade reading of it, so it goes back on the list, somewhere after Londonstani and Mrs. Dalloway.
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