When life has so many real happy and tragic stories, how is it that a book can you feel so sad, completely out of it.
I wished I hadn't peeked but I guess one knows such endings much earlier as one after the other event leads up to it.
It's the kind of book I hate and love. As a writer it makes me feel inadequate. It makes me wonder why I write when I can see such beautifully written words. What treasures do I have to offer at all?
As a reader it makes me feel so completely out of it. I hate it for making me feel like that. And yet I respect the power within in it to make me feel it.
I wonder at myself why made up stories induce real feelings.
It's not something I will read again though I might share it's quotes later.
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