Public Notes


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  • Charlotte shared from Seasons in the Sun: The Battle for Britain, 1974-1979 by Dominic Sandbrook
    More than a quarter of a century later, Francis Wheen, who was 20 in 1977, wrote that the ‘defining characteristics of the Seventies were economic disaster, terrorist threats, corruption in high places, prophecies of ecological doom and fear of the surveillance state’s suffocating embrace’.
    Note: sounds familiar. i mean...
  • Charlotte shared from Sorcery & Cecelia: or The Enchanted Chocolate Pot (The Cecelia and Kate Novels, 1) by Patricia C. Wrede, Caroline Stevermer
    I should like some indication that your desire to marry me extends beyond this evening’s whim.” “Oh, you are being a perfect pig about this, Kate. What do you want me to say to you?” “ ‘I love you,’ ” I informed him. He misconstrued me. Fortunately, by the time we were quite finished kissing in a public thoroughfare, he had said it himself, with considerable feeling. I admit I, too, repeated the words several times. And we agreed that we should, indeed, deal extremely.
    Note: CRYING WHY AM I AWAKE. you all need to read this book idk
  • Charlotte shared from Sorcery & Cecelia: or The Enchanted Chocolate Pot (The Cecelia and Kate Novels, 1) by Patricia C. Wrede, Caroline Stevermer
    For, indeed, Thomas never can resist saying exactly what enters his head. Sometimes it is diverting, of course. In fact, it is always diverting to Thomas. But often very awkward for the rest of us.
    Note: oh i love this book. especially thomas ?
  • Charlotte shared from Keats: Poems Published in 1820 by John Keats
    Her lute-string gave an echo of his name, She spoilt her half-done broidery with the same.
    Note: ugh keats i love you
  • Charlotte shared from Look at Me by Jennifer Egan
    We stepped through a warm breeze toward the house on Brownwood Drive where I had lain in bed for several thousand nights, staring into a cat’s cradle of elm trees that were slowly expiring from Dutch elm disease, where I’d listened to Supertramp albums in a basement with orange indoor-outdoor carpeting laid over the concrete, where I’d stood before a mirror in a prom dress, my mother plucking at its petals of rayon – and yet, for all that, a house I’d thought of hardly ever since I’d left.
    Note: i really like jennifer egan.