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Quote by Jennifer Weiner

“Invite him to poetry club," Doff said with a smirk. "See if he asks you to take a look at his Emily Dickinson." Beatrice snorted. "How long did it take you to think that up?" "Most of lunch, and the rest of G block," Doff said, shrugging modestly. "I started with 'read his Charles Dickens,' but Charles Dickens is a novelist." "What about his Philip K. Dick?" "Who's that?" asked Doff. "He wrote the book that got turned into Blade Runner.”

Quote by Jennifer Weiner

Work

That Summer

This book delves into the complexities of young love and the transformative experiences that occur during a pivotal summer in the lives of its characters. more

Author

Jennifer Weiner
Jennifer Weiner

Jennifer Weiner is a renowned American contemporary author, born on March 28, 1970. Her works are known for their humor, wit, and profound social insights, focusing mainly on women's lives, families, and love. Weiner's books have achieved great success in both the literary and mass markets, winning the love of many readers and critics. more

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“Finally when he climbed below deck after dark, wondering where his dinner was, perhaps with a storm come up and rough seas and blinding rains, I'd sulk and lure him into the warm and steamy darkness and from the hairs of his warm body I'd breed a myriad smiling, sparkle-eyed one-year-olds, my broods, my flocks. In the churning seas, below the waves, together inside our hammock woven in coarse sailcloth by Unguentine's deft hands, a spherical webbed sack which hung and swivelled between the two walls of our bedroom, we would spin round and round with lapping tongues and the soft suction of lips, whirling, our amorous centrifuge, all night long, zipped inside against the elements. Now, years and years later, those nights, the thought and touch of them is enough to make me throw myself down on the ground and roll in the dust like a hen nibbled by mites, generating clouds, stars and all the rest.”

“Ah gospodine! - reći će sinovica; - naredite vi mirne duše da se i te knjige spale kao i druge, jer dok moj gospodar stric ozdravi od viteške bolesti, ne bi bilo čudo da njega, ako on uščita te knjige, spopadne želja da se prometne u pastira i krene po šumama i livadama svirajući i pjevajući; ili, što je još gore, da postane pjesnik, a to je, kako vele, neizlječiva i prijelazna bolest.”

“Personal essayists write in large part to escape pent-up emotional anxiety, retreat behind the typewriter or digital keyboard in an attempt to regroup before blithely pushing forward on the cambered road of life. Some essayists might be uncomfortable reconnoitering their memories and, in a perverse twist, largely write in an effort to forget, to consign their uncomfortable emotional perplexities to a dead letter file. In contrast, I wonder if most people write poetry because they do not wish to wipe their mental kit clear. Poets might write because they wish to remember evocative experiences and they wish to share their feelings.”

“Unlike essayists whom write primarily to understand complex situations or convince other people of the righteousness of their opinions, poets strive to stir memories, provoke feelings, and evoke emotions. Poets do not write to reach that exalted perch where logic replaces feelings. Poets write about the connective tissue that makes us human, the poignant remembrances, hopes, fears, and emotions of humankind. It is not our ability to think standing alone that makes us human, but a mélange of incongruous feelings, emotional tidings that are virtually inexpressible.”