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#modern American literature
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So glad I’m taking Modern American Literature this semester. It’s opened my eyes to a whole new world.
That world being that of STEM Major. I can’t take this shit anymore.
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daisyundone · 3 months
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Felt so cool and pretentious checking out a Faulkner novel at the library today (it’s 4 class and beautiful but a perspective shift every chapter ???)
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dreamy-conceit · 5 months
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Kids are jumping out the windows of burning buildings, falling to their deaths. And we think the problem is that they’re jumping.
This is what we’ve done: We’ve tried to find ways to get them to stop jumping. Convince them that burning alive is better than leaving when the shit gets too hot for them to take. We’ve boarded up windows and made better nets to catch them, found more convincing ways to tell them not to jump. They’re making the decision that it’s better to be dead and gone than to be alive in what we have here, this life, the one we made for them, the one they’ve inherited.
— Tommy Orange, 'There There'
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newvision · 2 years
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— Bob Dylan from When the Deal Goes Down on Modern Times (2006)
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lilithsorchid · 2 years
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The Secret History by Donna Tartt
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A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara
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bones-ivy-breath · 10 months
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Inward by Yung Pueblo
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checkoutmybookshelf · 10 months
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Ah yes, the two reasons to write: making your crush notice you and getting the hell away from Lord Byron.
*checks closet and under the bed for Byron*
Ok, we're good guys! Feel free to keep writing!
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the-cricket-chirps · 6 months
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N.C. Wyeth, Black Spruce Ledge (Lobstering Off Black Spruce Ledge), 1939
N.C. Wyeth, ‘Our lives depended upon our helmsman,’ illustration from The Bounty Trilogy (Nordhoff & Hall) Wyeth Edition, 1952
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literaryruin · 1 year
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… for her, life was as cold as an attic with a window looking to the north, and ennui, like a spider, was silently spinning its shadowy web in every cranny of her heart.
- Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary
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byronicist · 6 months
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"I came into this world already scarred by loss on both sides of my family. My Indigenous side; my European side. My father and my mother were the kind of damaged people who should never have had children. But of course, they had me, and so my first language was loss."
Deborah Miranda, When Coyote Knocks on the Door (2021)
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a-book-is-a-garden · 11 months
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“And this I believe: that the free, exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world. And this I would fight for: the freedom of the mind to take any direction it wishes, undirected. And this I must fight against: any idea, religion, or government which limits or destroys the individual. This is what I am and what I am about.”
- John Steinbeck, “East of Eden”
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[Finch Family groupchat]
Scout: HDOSHWIWB
Atticus: What is that?
Scout: a keyboard smash
Atticus: And how do I do that?
Jem: Just press any button lol
Atticus: 7
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alienejj · 27 days
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thrifted bookish haul 4/mar/24
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A novel, a short story anthology, a printed candle in the shape of an apple and a peculiar bookmark:
Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. The Story; Love, Loss and the Lives of Women short stories chosen by Victoria Hislop.
You've no idea the emotions I emoted, the internal scream I screamt when I saw that cloth bookmark in the design of a prayer rug. I had seen those kinds of bookmarks in aesthetic book pics on Pinterest and had no idea where to get them so coming across one in a charity shop, still in its plastic cover, was incredible.
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andrumedus · 1 year
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i cry because i’m human and i’m connected and there is immense sadness in the world. i cry because humanity is frightening. because one person consumed with self-hatred and armed with one gun can kill an entire room of people. i cry because shame propels so many of us. i cry because so many people forget how important it is to cry, are made to feel weak when they do. i cry because i want to close my eyes to the world. i cry because i can’t.
Mary Lambert, Shame Is an Ocean I Swim Across; “God Damn You, Sarah McLachlan”
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newvision · 1 year
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Joan Didion, from Slouching Towards Bethlehem
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E. E. Cummings – Crepuscule (I Will Wade Out)
XLI Poems, 1925
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