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
3 years, 6 months ago

imperceptibly his manner changed

But she was so pretty! And he had possessed few women as ingenuous as she! This love, so free of licentiousness, was a new thing for him and, drawing him out of his easy ways, both flattered his pride and inflamed his sensuality. Emma’s rapturous emotion, which his bourgeois common sense disdained,…

—p.149 Madame Bovary Part II (59) by Gustave Flaubert
You added a note
3 years, 6 months ago

Emma was experiencing the satisfaction of revenge

She said to herself again and again: “I have a lover! A lover!” reveling in the thought as though she had come into a second puberty. At last she would possess those joys of love, that fever of happiness of which she had despaired. She was entering something marvelous in which all was passion, ecst…

—p.142 Part II (59) by Gustave Flaubert
You added a note
3 years, 6 months ago

with a long tremor she gave herself up to him

The material of her riding habit caught on his velvet coat. She tipped back her head, her white throat swelled with a sigh; and weakened, bathed in tears, hiding her face, with a long tremor she gave herself up to him.

The evening shadows were coming down; the horizontal sun, passing between the…

—p.141 Part II (59) by Gustave Flaubert
You added a note
3 years, 6 months ago

there was a haze over the countryside inspo/setting

It was the beginning of October. There was a haze over the countryside. Mist lay along the horizon, between the outlines of the hills; and elsewhere it tore apart, rose, vanished. Sometimes, through a gap in the haze, one could see the roofs of Yonville under a ray of sunlight in the distance, with…

—p.138 Part II (59) by Gustave Flaubert
You added a note
3 years, 6 months ago

used it to rekindle her sadness

From then on, the memory of Léon occupied the center of her feeling of weariness; there it sparkled more brightly than a fire abandoned by travelers on the snow of a Russian steppe. She would rush up to it, she would crouch down next to it, she would delicately stir its embers, so close to dying ou…

—p.108 Part II (59) by Gustave Flaubert