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You tasted it. Isn't that enough? Of what do you ever get more than a taste? That's all we're given in life, that's all we're given of life. A taste. There is no more.
Philip Roth, The Dying Animal
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anthony bourdain’s favorite things from wall street journal series. newly realised, longly evolving unrecognized habit of observing people’s favorite things set up as if an altar.
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if i bring a book someplace it doesn't necessarily mean i want to read it mayb i just want to take her own a walk. Get her some fresh air and a change of scenery
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“I have sometimes thought that a woman’s nature is like a great house full of rooms: there is a hall, through which everyone passes, going in and out; the drawing room, where one receives formal visits; the sitting room, where members of the family come and go as they list; but beyond that, far beyond, are other rooms, the hands of whose doors are perhaps never touched; no one knows the way to them, no one knows whither they lead; and in the innermost room, the soul sits alone and waits.”
— Edith Wharton, The Ghost Stories (via heteroglossia)
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Hélène Cixous, from The Selected Plays of Hélène Cixous; “Black Sail, White Sail”
Text ID: There’ll be no hymns to our glory. / History has cut our throats.
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Trying to get as much editing done as humanly possible this week.
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writing the first draft: 🥰😁🥳😝🤗✨🎉🎊🌟💗
editing the first draft: 💩
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