May 4, 2020May 5, 2020 by Anne ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I think it’s very pretty.
Can it be pretty if no one thinks it’s pretty?
I think it’s pretty.
If you’re the only one?
That’s pretty pretty.
And what about the boys? Don’t you want them to think you’re pretty?
I wouldn’t want a boy to think I was pretty unless he was the kind of boy who thought I was pretty.
—Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated

May 4, 2020May 10, 2020 by Anne ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart.
I am, I am, I am.
—Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

A poem for the times

May 4, 2020September 29, 2020 by Anne ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Hope is the thing with feathers

by Emily Dickinson

That Book Broad

Let's get lit.

Quotes

A poem for the times

Hope is the thing with feathers

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the Gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest Sea;
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Share this:

Share this:

Hope is the thing with feathers

Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the Gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land, And on the strangest Sea; Yet, never, in Extremity, It asked a crumb of me.

Share this:

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the Gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest Sea;
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.