“Yes, it was possible that the little world, on its voyage among all the stars, might become like that; a boat on which one could travel no longer, from which one could no longer look up and confront those bright rings of revolution.”
― Willa Cather, The Professor’s House

I’ve just finished Cinder. There was little action at the end, I wnated more. Now I am going to start Billy and Me by Giovanna Fletcher and also The Professor’s House, which is for one of my uni courses.

He acabado Cinder. Para mi gusto había poca acción al final del libro, me ha dejado con ganas de más. Ahora empezaré a leer Billy and Me de Giovanna Fletcher, junto con The Professor’s House, que es para la universidad.


Today’s library read: The Professor’s House, by Willa Cather (1925)

…“‘You, you too?’ He breathed in amazement. He took up one of her gloves and began drawing it out through her fingers. She said nothing, but he saw her lip quiver, and she turned away and began looking at the house through the glasses. …He wished he knew just how it seemed to be her. He had been mistaken, he felt. The heart of another is a dark forest, always, no matter how close it has been to one’s own.”(P.I, Ch.VIII).

Willa Cather is excoriating me. Paired with Eliot, Cather is absolutely stripping me naked and I feel so insecure about everything I’ve ever known and thought about: chastity, spirits, sexual desire, commercialization, industry, capitalism, pastoral life, labor in love, the mausoleums of mankind, and clean romance. Dirty romance. I haven’t even placed my quotes in the essay yet, but this is the closest that I’ve ever felt to texts: “The Professor’s House” and “The Waste Land” is burning the hell out of me and I’m on fire, I’m excited, I’m aching to fish out the right vowels and set the tone straight. My heart is exposed and I am hungry to write more.