Welcome to Bookmarker!

This is a personal project by @dellsystem. I built this to help me retain information from the books I'm reading.

Source code on GitHub (MIT license).

Activity

You added a note
7 years, 7 months ago

suddenly ask what's wrong archive/silicon-jest

'[...] The next suitable person you're in light conversation with, you stop suddenly in the middle of the conversation and look at the person closely and say, "What's wrong?" You say it in a concerned way. He'll say, "What do you mean?" You say, "Something's wrong. I can tell. What is it?" And he'l…

—p.19 The Pale King §2 (7) by David Foster Wallace
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7 years, 7 months ago

the no-cigarette glyph legally redundant archive/silicon-jest

[...]and he remembered, as the overhead bell rang again and the sign lit, the no-cigarette glyph legally redundant [...]

—p.15 §2 (7) by David Foster Wallace
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7 years, 7 months ago

noodling impotently about how best to study archive/silicon-jest inspo/characterisation

[...] precious time was lost before he could even think about how to set up a workable schedule for maximally efficient reviewing for the exam, even mentally, which he did every day. His great weakness was strategic organization and apportionment of time, as Reynolds pointed out at every opportunit…

—p.13 §2 (7) by David Foster Wallace
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7 years, 7 months ago

what their professional hopes and dreams were archive/silicon-jest

[...] the woman's claw on the steel armrest between them was a horrible sight that he declined to attend to. Old people's hands frightened and repelled him. He'd had grandparents whose hands he could remember in their laps looking alien and clawlike. Upon incorporation, Jones, Inc. issues common st…

—p.12 §2 (7) by David Foster Wallace
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7 years, 7 months ago

crossing their arms funereally archive/silicon-jest

[...] The card's figures opening emergency doors and pulling cords and crossing their arms funereally with their seat cushions on their chests seemed amateurishly drawn and their features little more than bumps; you couldn't see fear or relief or really anything on their faces as they slid down the…

—p.8 §2 (7) by David Foster Wallace