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

but I know that you are a true comrade

In the car she got mad at Pasquale (Have you become the servant of those people?) and he let her vent. Only when it seemed to him that she had come to the end of her recriminations did he start off with his political formulas: the condition of workers in the South, the condition of slavery in which…

—p.144 Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay (The Neapolitan Novels, #3) by Elena Ferrante
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3 years, 1 month ago

to people who had difficulty reading

Lila didn’t answer, so that she wouldn’t yell something hostile at him. But the boy’s disoriented face, wearing the expression people have when they feel they are right and don’t understand how it is that others don’t share their opinion, stayed in her mind. She thought that she ought to explain to…

—p.131 by Elena Ferrante
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3 years, 1 month ago

there is no woman like you

[...] But Pasquale, to her surprise, assumed a grandiose tone and said to her, with some emotion: Lina, before you go I have to tell you one thing. There is no woman like you, you throw yourself into life with a force that, if we all had it, the world would have changed a long time ago. Then, havin…

—p.115 by Elena Ferrante
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3 years, 1 month ago

let’s diagram the factory

From the simplest actions to the most complicated, they racked their brains to diagram daily life, even if the Zurich tests didn’t require it. And not because Enzo wanted to but because, as usual, Lila, who had begun diffidently, grew more and more excited each day, and now, in spite of the cold at…

—p.114 by Elena Ferrante
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3 years, 1 month ago

sometimes she felt a weight on her chest

Of course, they didn’t sleep together. Lila couldn’t do it. They shut themselves in their rooms, and she heard him moving on the other side of the wall until every noise stopped and there remained only the sounds of the apartment, the building, the street. She had trouble falling asleep, in spite o…

—p.106 by Elena Ferrante