Persuasion, by Jane Austen

Prettier musings of high-wrought love and eternal constancy, could never have passed along the streets of Bath, than Anne was sporting with from Camden-place to Westgate buildings. It was almost enough to spread purification and perfume all the way.

Paper Towns, by John Green

After all that hearing, he [Whitman] writes, "I am exposed....cut by bitter and poisoned hail." That was perfect, I thought; you listen to people so that you can imagine them, and you hear all the terrible and wonderful things people do to themselves and to one another, but in the end the listening exposes you even more than it exposes the people you're trying to listen to.

Rose Under Fire, by Elizabeth Wein

She barked an order at the guards. They'd sent extras, expecting a fight. She took hold of a dog's leash and started prowling among the first rows of silent, stubborn language professors and music teachers and widowed mothers and orphaned daughters, and projectionists and spies and bartenders and cleaning ladies and Resistance agents and Red Army soldiers and Girl Scout saboteurs. And taran pilots.

And, in our first real moments of glory, the lights went out.

I think, if there could be anything I am glad I was there for, it is that moment.

The Contrast, by Royall Tyler

MANLY: My dear Charlotte, I am happy that I once more enfold you within the arms of fraternal affection. I know you are going to ask (amiable impatience!) how our parents do,--the venerable pair transmit you their blessing by me--they totter on the verge of a well-spent life, and wish only to see their children settled in the world, to depart in peace.

The Fault In Our Stars, by John Green

The BiPAP essentially took control of my breathing away from me, which was intensely annoying, but the great thing about it was that it made all this noise, rumbling with each inhalation and whirring as I exhaled. I kept thinking that it sounded like a dragon breathing in time with me, like I had this pet dragon who was cuddled up next to me and cared enough about me to time his breaths to mine.

The Joy of Eating, Edited by Jill Foulston

We ate in perfect silence, first in shock, then in amazement, and then in gratitude that not only was there not enough to go around, but that nothing else was forthcoming. That was the entire meal.
--from Home Cooking, by Laurie Colwin

Among these forgotten terms are opsophagist 'frequenter of pastry shops'; symposiast 'one of a drinking party, banqueter'; pabulous 'abounding in food'; eubrotic 'good to eat'; orectic 'characterized by appetite or desire'; esculent 'good to eat'; deipnetic 'fond of eating'; pamphagous 'omnivorous'; coenaculous 'fond of suppers'; gulch 'to swallow hungrily'; and pinguedinize 'to make fat'...My current favorite would have to be supernaculum, a word referring to the act of drinking the very last drop from a glass or bottle.
--from Blooming English, by Kate Burridge

This Isn't the Sort of Thing that Happens to Someone Like You, by Jon McGregor

He wasn't naive; he knew when to say no. It was just that he didn't always think being spun a yarn was a good enough reason for not doing what he could to help. It's the desperate ones who come up with the best stories, he used to say, and Catherine had admired him for this, once, for his refusal to let cynicism accumulate with each knock at the church office door.

Thr3e, by Ted Dekker

"This is what Kevin could have meant when he told me he had a new model for the natures of man," Dr. Francis said. "The three natures of man. Good, evil, and the man struggling between. 'The good that I would, that I do not, but that which I would not, that I do.' There are really three natures in there! One, the good. Two, that which I would not. And, three, I!"

If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things, by Jon McGregor

He does not speak of these things to people, there is nobody to speak them to here, nobody who knows. If he was asked he would say okay mostly, mostly I am okay, it is okay. But there are times when he feels too much, when if he could tell someone he would say I cannot possibly bear it anymore I want to tear the paper from the walls and fall to my knees and hammer upon the floor with my useless ruined fists.

*****

He says my daughter, and all the love he has is wrapped up in the tone of his voice when he says those two words, he says my daughter you must always look with both of your eyes and listen with both of your ears. He says this is a very big world and there are many things you could miss if you are not careful. He says there are remarkable things all the time, right in front of us, but our eyes have like the clouds over the sun and our lives are paler and poorer if we do not see them for what they are.
He says, if nobody speaks of remarkable things, how can they be called remarkable?

Blood Red Road, by Moira Young

I never knew that missin somebody could hurt, I says. But it does. Deep inside. Like it's in my bones. We ain't never bin apart till now. Never. I dunno how to be without him. It's like... I ain't nuthin.

Clockwork Angel, by Cassandra Clare

“Sometimes,” Jem said, “our lives can change so fast that the change outpaces our minds and hearts. It’s those times, I think, when our lives have altered but we still long for the time before everything was altered—that is when we feel the greatest pain. I can tell you, though, from experience, you grow accustomed to it. You learn to live your new life, and you can’t imagine, or even really remember, how things were before.” 

A Series of Unfortunate Events: The Bad Beginning, by Lemony Snicket

The way sadness works is one of the strange riddles of the world. If you are stricken with a great sadness, you may feel as if you have been set aflame, not only because of the enormous pain, but also because your sadness may spread over your life, like smoke from an enormous fire. You might find it difficult to see anything but your own sadness, the way smoke can cover a landscape so that all anyone can see is black. You may find that if someone pours water all over you, you are damp and distracted, but not cured of your sadness, the way a fire department can douse a fire but never recover what has been burnt down.

The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman

“You're alive, Bod. That means you have infinite potential. You can do anything, make anything, dream anything. If you can change the world, the world will change. Potential. Once you're dead, it's gone. Over. You've made what you've made, dreamed your dream, written your name. You may be buried here, you may even walk. But that potential is finished.” 

Unwind, by Neal Shusterman

"Blink twice if you can hear me."
Blink, blink.
"Good."
He locks his eyes on the nurse, whose eyes still smile. They always smile. Someone made her have eternally smiling eyes.
"I'm afraid you're going to have to stop blinking now."

Code Name Verity, by Elizabeth Wein 

All I have done is buy myself some time, the time to write this. I haven't really told anyone anything of use. I've only told a story.
But I have told the truth. Isn't that ironic? They sent me because I am so good at telling lies. But I have told the truth.

48 hour book challenge finish line

In the end...12.5 hours, 6 books, 2047 pages. Book posts to come!

48-Hour Book Challenge

Starting the challenge now, in spite of technical difficulties. I won't be blogging much until afterward, though, as I only have internet access from my phone! But that will make for fewer distractions from reading.

"A Tree Telling of Orpheus,"  by Denise Levertov

Perhaps he will not return.
                        But what we have lived
comes back to us.
              We see more.
                        We feel, as our rings increase,
something that lifts our branches, that stretches our furthest
                                        leaf-tips
further.
    The wind, the birds,
                        do not sound poorer but clearer,
recalling our agony, and the way we danced.
The music!