Bookmarker is a personal project by @dellsystem to help with retaining reading material. Source on GitHub.

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3 years, 1 month ago

I felt sunk inside myself

He left an hour later, even though Pietro sullenly insisted that he stay, even though Dede burst into tears. My husband went to wash, and reappeared soon afterward ready to go out. Looking down he said: I didn’t tell the police that Pasquale and Nadia were in our house; and I did it not to protect …

—p.388 Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay (The Neapolitan Novels, #3) by Elena Ferrante
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3 years, 1 month ago

I felt like a drop of rain in a spiderweb

Nino stayed for ten days. Nothing of what happened in that time had anything to do with the yearning for seduction I had experienced years earlier. I didn’t joke with him; I didn’t act flirtatious; I didn’t assail him with all sorts of favors; I didn’t play the part of the liberated woman, modeling…

—p.374 by Elena Ferrante
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3 years, 1 month ago

a well-cooked dish to make his mouth water

So Nino had come with his wife; I was terrified by the comparison. I knew what I was like, I knew the crude physicality of my body, but for a good part of my life I had given it little importance. I had grown up with one pair of shoes at a time, ugly dresses sewed by my mother, makeup only on rare …

—p.365 by Elena Ferrante
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3 years, 1 month ago

the waste of intelligence topic/female-subjugation

“You should leave your wife more time.”

“She has all day available.”

“I’m not kidding. If you don’t, you’re guilty not only on a human level but also on a political one.”

“What’s the crime?”

“The waste of intelligence. A community that finds it natural to suffocate with the care of home…

—p.361 by Elena Ferrante
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3 years, 1 month ago

discontent with my situation as a mother

At night every imagining seemed a thing that had happened or was still happening, and I was afraid for her, I saw her captured, wounded, like so many women and men in the chaos of the world, and I felt pity for her, but I also envied her. The childish conviction that she had always been destined fo…

—p.313 by Elena Ferrante