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
2 years, 11 months ago

to communicate without consequence

I have always disappointed the people who ask me what I’m feeling. When someone asks, even if I’m feeling particularly anguished, I can’t seem to form the words. Maybe it comes from the fear of what may change. The atmosphere suddenly hardens and from one moment to the next the person feels differe…

—p.148 Happy Hour by Marlowe Granados
You added a note
2 years, 11 months ago

never wait to be chosen by someone advice/living

Anabel only gave me the job because, she said, I was naturally maternal. It had come up after I asked Anabel how she had gotten married in the first place. Anabel said, “Well, darling, it was simple. I had not been in touch with many men at that age, or at least any good men. Anyone who was sweet w…

—p.138 by Marlowe Granados
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2 years, 11 months ago

I’ve always liked brutes

I don’t know why I’ve always liked brutes. They drink too much for lack of the right language to express themselves. Sometimes they’re too scared to express anything at all, but it’s never obvious. They appear coarse, aloof, absolutely taciturn. They have always been my weakness. I really yearn for…

—p.109 by Marlowe Granados
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2 years, 11 months ago

sadness in the form of flying sparks inspo/setting

We headed toward the center of the city, taking our time. The air finally cleared my head. It was nice to ride along on the bike and watch the streets and windows begin to wake up. People who’d been out all night drove their cars home or wherever, and workers drove their cars to work or piled into …

—p.161 The Spirit of Science Fiction by Roberto Bolaño
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2 years, 11 months ago

more and more like brides and bridegrooms

Meanwhile I was looking at Laura, who was sitting at the other end of the room next to Lola Torrente, talking in a low voice. Every so often, our eyes met and we smiled, though not at first but centuries later, when we were eating the sandwiches that José Arco had gone out to buy at some place only…

—p.97 by Roberto Bolaño