15 discoveries later
Which one keeps calling?
Choose a stream to follow and continue in Read, or shuffle the shelves for another flight.Pride and Prejudice
He kept watching her as she played—was it admiration, or did he think her most reprehensible?
Jane AustenMoby Dick; Or, The Whale
All lofty things mirror a man's self—tower, volcano, and bird, and Ahab is all three.
Herman MelvilleJane Eyre
Hunger and cold want me dead tonight—yet the belief that Mr. Rochester lives keeps me fighting.
Charlotte BrontëThe Divine Comedy
A trembling kiss on the mouth, and the book called 'Galeotto'—how did a single reading stop and start a forbidden passion?
Dante AlighieriShakespeare's Sonnets
Imagine a sleeping Love-god disarmed by a virgin’s cool hand—why does the supposed cure only prove love’s stubborn fire?
William ShakespeareThe Picture of Dorian Gray
He seized the knife and, like a hunted animal, stabbed again and again.
Oscar WildeMeditations
If you feel anger rise, first point to the same fault in your own hand—watch how the fury loosens.
Marcus AureliusMoby Dick; Or, The Whale
A gigantic white skeleton lounges while vines weave green over its bones—how can Death be the forest's cunning weaver of life?
Herman MelvilleThe Republic
When reason finally beholds the 'sun' of the good, what shadows does it leave behind in the world of sight?
PlatoJane Eyre
She stands punished and unmoved, eyes fixed inward—what memory or dream keeps her steadier than shame?
Charlotte BrontëThe Republic
What if a state ran on a deliberate 'magnificent lie'—could a myth of shared origins hold society together?
PlatoMoby Dick; Or, The Whale
Who are you, boy? Your eyes give back no reflection—what is passing through you?
Herman MelvilleA Room with a View
She gasped and was kissed—then life slid back to the upper lawn; what shifted in that stolen instant?
E. M. ForsterThe Adventures of Tom Sawyer
Being 'respectable' is unbearable—I'd rather live in a barrel than trade freedom for constant rules.
Mark TwainPride and Prejudice
Stay where you are—you are charmingly grouped; admitting a fourth would spoil the picturesque.
Jane Austen