Books : What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

You'll love Baldwin's "Another Country". Don't take this the wrong way, but it reads like a soap opera. Lol. It delves heavily into the relationships of the characters. I mentioned how Rechy explores the queer subculture before gay liberation, how we really lived our lives in a homophobic world. Baldwin's book does that as well. But the bisexuality and the interracial relationships amp it up.

And yes, I need to expand my Dostoevsky collection. I started "The Idiot" but set it aside and need to get back to it. Very odd about Dostoevsky in that his work is set in a backdrop of the Russian Orthodox Church. Yet he was an existentialist as well.

Uh, look man. Make tool! Caveman. No fool!
I GameBoy - H. superior

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

cool @ Baldwin!!!

Dostoevsky is a fav writer of mine. i get it, The Idiot can clog up towards the middle and it took myself a couple of months to get through that, but reading it till the end will be rewarding. and true that, Dostoevsky was just really close to the normal folks and lowest class (he was a prisoner in a gulag for many years) and learned early that authorities are no good. i think his basic approach is that no matter how hard u believe in the church and its god, it will never spare u the chores and hardness of life and being urself and believing in ur own ideals is going to get further than living in line with authorities created and hold by someone else. i can't remember any significant mention of the church or any clergyman having impact in any of his stories, and he had always a rather anti-authoritarian stance.

👈😲 i slept on the sidewalk by the side of the castle in the Magic Kingdom 😴👉

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

funny how u both didnt mention Notes from Underground, his best known work.

Notes is considered by many to be one of the first existentialist novels.

let me smell your farts for israel

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

yeah i still need to read that. The House of the Dead, too.

Humiliated and Insulted is from the not-so extensive novels that i've read, a really great one too.

👈😲 i slept on the sidewalk by the side of the castle in the Magic Kingdom 😴👉

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

I find it hard to read 19th century authors. They start slow.

let me smell your farts for israel

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

Les misérables is my absolute dearest favourite piece of literature of my life, and it's meandering and dissecting and diving into the heart and soul of French 19th century society and, yet, it's not hard to read at all, but puts u in such a nice flow and moves u through its universe at incredibly comfy speeds. reading this book was the most beautiful and pleasant reading experience i've ever had.

👈😲 i slept on the sidewalk by the side of the castle in the Magic Kingdom 😴👉

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

its better than hunchback of notre dame which is one of my favorites?

let me smell your farts for israel

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

yes! Notre-Dame is really great… until the street festival begins, and then it starts getting to become a klutz to read which really threw me off. i actually stopped reading along the way bc i lost the track of its storyline and at one point didn't know anymore what was even going on. it was a very humpy read yes, and i either forgot how it ended or i stopped reading before it ended, i don't even remember anymore. that was 10 years ago, i think. and after that i started reading Les misérables which blew me away and i couldnt put down this fucking fat book at all. well, it's actually 3 fat volumes. a real fat face fatty fatso of a novel. i wanna make sweet sweet love with its fat folds now. smother me, Les miserables, smother me good!!

👈😲 i slept on the sidewalk by the side of the castle in the Magic Kingdom 😴👉

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

i'm not going mad, i got carried away, sorry. 😅

👈😲 i slept on the sidewalk by the side of the castle in the Magic Kingdom 😴👉

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

… until the street festival begins, and then it starts getting to become a klutz to read which really threw me off.

thats when it starts to become better

u shud really read chapters which glorify the hunchback's presence that livens up the entire church

tragic chapters of esmeralda's mother's early life

also the ending chapters

its a massive tragedy. the only book that comes close is the bible itself.

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/135/135-h/135-h.htm

let me smell your farts for israel

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?



let me smell your farts for israel

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

Notes from Underground - Hey Ben. Remember we talked about this one recently but I forgot to order it. Maybe I'll forget The Idiot for now and read Notes.

From Wiki:
Notes from Underground (pre-reform Russian: Записки изъ подполья; post-reform Russian: Записки из подполья, tr. Zapíski iz podpólʹya), also translated as Notes from the Underground or Letters from the Underworld, is an 1864 novella by Fyodor Dostoevsky. Notes is considered by many to be one of the first existentialist novels.[1]


Uh, look man. Make tool! Caveman. No fool!
I GameBoy - H. superior

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

immediately stopped reading after jidf/mossad messed with my text. they replaced KGB with pissrahelli thought police uninvited unneeded vermin ruining yet another text.

Feed me dicks!

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

obnoxious rabbis seeking validation to their pathetic depressed existence. off yourselves. no one likes u.

Feed me dicks!

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

They're all written by Arthur C. Clark:



Douglas Adams:



Isaac Asimov, Robert Heinlein or Ray Bradbury.



Schrodinger's cat walks into a bar, and doesn't.

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

I love short stories like such

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rash%C5%8Dmon_(short_story)


It happened one evening. A lowly servant was under Rashōmon Gate, waiting for the rain to stop. Under the broad gate, there was no one but him. On one of the large round pillars whose red paint was peeling off in places, there was only a solitary katydid. Because the gate was located on Suzaku Boulevard, you would normally expect to find two or three other people there, waiting for the rain to let up. But there was nobody there but him.

You see, over the last two or three years there had been a series of disasters in Kyoto: earthquakes, whirlwinds, fires, and famines. The capital was falling apart in many different ways. According to old records, Buddhist statues and altars had been smashed, and their vermilion-lacquered and gold- or silver-foiled wood piled up on the side of the road and sold as kindling. Needless to say, with the capital in this condition, there was no one to repair the gate, and indeed, nobody even gave it a second thought. Taking advantage of this state of neglect, foxes and badgers began to live there. Robbers lived there. Eventually, it had even become customary to take unclaimed corpses to the gate and dump them there. So after sunset, people got scared, and nobody dared set foot near the gate after dark.

In their place, a large murder of crows had flocked there. During the day, countless birds could be seen flying around in circles while cawing at the high ornamental ridge-end tiles. They looked just like scattered sesame seeds, particularly when the sky above the gate turned red at sunset. The crows, of course, had come to peck at the flesh of the dead bodies on top of the gate. Today, however, perhaps because it was late, not a single bird could be seen. But what you could see were their white droppings, stuck in patches to the stone steps, which were crumbling in places, with long weeds growing from the cracks. The servant, wearing a navy-blue kimono that had faded from over-washing, sat down on the seventh-and-top step of the stone staircase. He watched the rain fall while playing with a large pimple on his right cheek, lost in his own thoughts.

A little while ago, I wrote, "A lowly servant was waiting for the rain to stop". However, even if the rain did stop, the servant still wouldn't have anything to do. Normally, of course, he would have been expected to return to his master's house, but he had been released from the service of his master four or five days before. As I wrote earlier, at this time, the city of Kyoto was deteriorating in many different ways. That this servant had been dismissed by his master, who had employed him for so many years, was merely another small side effect of this decline. So, rather than saying, "A lowly servant was waiting for the rain to stop", it would have been more appropriate to say, "A lowly servant, trapped by the rain, had nowhere to go, and didn't know what to do". The weather that day further served to darken the mood of this Heian-period servant. The rain had started falling at a little after 4 PM, and it still showed no signs of letting up. For now, foremost on the servant's mind was how he would make his living tomorrow—how he would get through this "hopeless situation". As he tried to piece together his wandering thoughts, he listened pensively to the sound of the rain falling on Suzaku Boulevard.

The rain engulfed Rashōmon, and gales of rain from far away pounded down upon the gate with a tremendous noise. The darkness of night gradually set in from above, and if you were to look up, it might seem as if the large, gloomy clouds were suspended from the ends of the tiles that jutted out from the roof of the gate.

In order to somehow get through his "hopeless situation", the servant might have to set his morals aside. If he refused to do things that he thought were morally questionable, then he would only end up starving to death under a roofed mud wall or on the side of the road. And then he would be taken to this gate, to be discarded, like a dog. "If I am willing to do whatever it takes to survive…" His thoughts had circled through his head a number of times, and they had finally arrived here. But this "if" would always remain a mere hypothetical. For although the servant acknowledged that he had to do whatever he could to get by, he didn't have the courage to bring the sentence to its foregone conclusion: "I am bound to become a thief."

The servant sneezed, and he stood up wearily. Kyoto—so chilly in the evening—was already cold enough that he wished he had a brazier. The wind and the darkness blew mercilessly between the pillars of the gate. The katydid that had been sitting on the red pillar was long gone.

The servant tucked his head into his chest, hunched up his shoulders—clad in the blue kimono he wore over his thin yellow underclothes—and looked around the gate. "If there is a place where I won't be bothered by the wind or the rain… a place where I won't be seen… a place where it looks like I can sleep comfortably all night… then I will spend the night there", he thought. Luckily, just then, he spotted the wide, red staircase that led to the tower atop the gate. The only people he might find up there would already be dead! So, the servant, being careful that his simple wooden-hilted sword did not slip out of its sheath, stepped on the bottom stair with his straw sandal.

It was a few minutes later. Halfway up the wide staircase leading to the top of the gate's tower, the man held his breath, and, crouching like a cat, he looked up cautiously. The light of a fire shone down softly upon the man's right cheek from the top of the tower. It was that same cheek, with the red pus-filled pimple among the stubble. The servant had taken for granted that everyone up there would already be dead. But when he climbed up two or three more steps, he saw that not only had someone had lit a fire up there, they seemed to be moving it back and forth… He could tell this from the way that the muddy, yellow light wavered in the spider webs hanging from every nook and cranny of the ceiling. A lighted fire… on this rainy night… and on top of this gate… Surely this could be no ordinary human.

The servant crept up to the top step of the steep staircase, his feet as silent as a gecko's. He straightened out his body as much as he could, stuck his neck out as far as possible, and cautiously peered into the tower. As the rumours had said, a number of corpses had been discarded in the tower, but the firelight wasn't as bright as he had expected, so he couldn't tell how many. Although the light was dim, what he did know was that some of the bodies were wearing kimonos and others were naked. Predictably, the corpses' numbers counted both men and woman, mixed together amongst the dead. The bodies looked so much like clay dolls, that you might doubt that any of them had ever even been alive. Their mouths open and their arms outstretched, they were strewn haphazardly across the floor. And while the higher parts of their bodies—like their chests and shoulders—caught some of the dim firelight, they cast shadows on the lower parts, and the corpses were as eternally silent as a mute.

The servant instinctively covered his nose from the putrid stench of the rotting bodies. But the next instant, his hand fell away from his face. A strong emotion had almost completely robbed him of his sense of smell.

It was at that moment that the servant first caught glimpse of the person squatting among the corpses. It was an emaciated little old white-haired woman in a dusky-red kimono. The old woman was carrying a lighted pine torch and staring at one of the corpses' faces. Judging from the length of its hair in places, it was probably the body of a woman.

For a while, moved by six parts fear and four parts curiosity, the servant forgot even to breathe. To borrow a phrase from the writers of the chronicles of old, he felt as if "the hairs on his head and body had grown thick". The old woman thrust the handle of the pine torch into the space between the floorboards. She placed both hands on the corpse's head, and like a monkey picking the lice off its child, she began to pull out strands of the corpse's long hair, one-by-one. The hairs seemed to be coming out with very little effort.

Each time she plucked one of those hairs, the servant grew a little bit less frightened. And each time she plucked one of those hairs, the intense hatred that he now felt for this woman grew a little bit stronger. No—it is probably misleading to say that he hated her, per se. Rather, it was a revulsion against all forms of evil, which was growing stronger by the minute. At that moment, if someone again raised the question that the servant had been thinking about under the gate—whether he would starve to death or become a criminal—the servant would almost certainly have chosen starvation, without an ounce of regret. Like the torch the old woman had jammed between the floorboards, this was how ardently the man's heart burned against all that was evil.

let me smell your farts for israel

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

The servant, of course, didn't know why the old woman was pulling out the corpse's hair, so, rationally, he had no way of knowing if it was immoral or not. But for this servant, on this rainy night, on top of this gate, pulling out a dead woman's hair was an unforgivable sin. Of course, the servant had already forgotten that until very recently, he was considering becoming a robber himself.

The servant strained his legs, and, suddenly, leapt up from the stairs without warning. He strode over to the woman, his hand on the wooden hilt of his sword. Needless to say, the woman was scared out of her wits.

As soon as the old woman saw the servant, she sprung up as if she had been fired from a crossbow.

"You! Where are you going?"

The servant shouted. He stood firmly in the old woman's way, as she tripped over corpses in a frenzied attempt to escape. The old woman tried to shove him aside. But the servant still had no intention of letting her go, and he pushed her back. For a while, the two grappled among the corpses without saying a word. But the outcome of this battle was clear from the beginning. In the end, the servant grabbed the old woman's arm and wrenched her down to the floor. Her arm, like a chicken leg, was merely skin and bones.

"What were you doing? Well, what were you doing? SPEAK! If you don't tell me, you'll get THIS!"

The servant pushed the old woman away from him, and, suddenly, he drew his sword and thrust the pale white steel before her eyes. But the old woman said nothing. Her hands shook uncontrollably, her shoulders heaved as she panted. Her eyes were open so wide that they looked like they were going to pop right out their sockets, but still, like a mute, she remained obstinately silent. Seeing this, the servant then realized that he held this woman's life in the palm of his hand. When he realized this, his heart, which had been burning so fiercely with hatred, cooled down, until all that remained were the feelings of pride and satisfaction that come with a job well done. The servant looked down at the woman, lowered his voice and said:

"I'm not an official from the police department or anything. I'm just a traveller who happened to be passing under the gate a moment ago. So I'm not going to tie you up or anything like that. But it would be best if you told me what you were doing on top of this gate just now."

The bug-eyed old woman opened her eyes even wider, and stared at the servant's face. She looked at him with the piercing red eyes of a bird of prey. And then, her lips—so wrinkled that they were almost a part of her nose—moved, as if she were chewing something. You could see her pointed Adam's apple moving in her gaunt throat. Then, from that throat, came a pant-broken voice that sounded like the cawing of a crow.

"I'm taking this hair… I'm taking this woman's hair to… Well, I thought I'd make a wig."

The servant was disappointed that the old woman's answer was so unexpectedly dull. Along with the disappointment, those old feelings of hatred and contempt came flooding back to him. And somehow, he must have conveyed these feelings to the old woman. With the hairs she had stolen from the corpse still clutched in one hand, she mumbled in a raspy, toadish voice:

"I see. Well, perhaps it is immoral to pull out the hairs of the dead. But these corpses up here—all of them—they were just the sort of people who wouldn't have minded. In fact, this woman whose hair I was just pulling out a moment ago—she used to cut snakes into 5-inch pieces, dry them, and go sell them at the camp of the crown prince's palace guard, saying it was dried fish. If she hadn't died in the plague, she would probably still be going there now. And yet, the guards said this woman's dried fish tasted good, and they always bought it to go with their rice. I don't think what she did was immoral. If she hadn't done it, she would have starved to death, so, she just did what she had to. And this woman, who understood so well these things we have to do, would probably forgive me for what I'm doing to her too."

The old woman said something along those lines.

The servant put his sword back in its scabbard and rested his hand on its hilt while he listened to her story unsympathetically. Sure enough, while he listened, his right hand nursed the red pus-filled pimple on his cheek. As he was listening to her story, he felt the courage that he had lacked under the gate a few moments earlier building up inside him. It was leading him in the completely opposite direction of the courage he had when he climbed up the gate and grabbed the old woman. The servant was no longer debating whether to starve to death or become a thief. The way he felt now, the idea of starving to death was virtually unthinkable.

"That's definitely true," the servant agreed derisively when she had finished speaking. He took a step forward and suddenly tore his right hand away from the pimple. Grabbing the woman by the scruff of the neck, he said to her in a biting tone:

"Well then, you won't hold it against me if I try to steal your clothes. If I don't, you see, I too will starve."

The servant deftly stripped the woman of her kimono. She tried to cling to his leg, but he kicked her violently onto the corpses. The entrance to the stairwell was a mere five paces away. In the blink of an eye, the servant ran down the steep staircase and into the darkness, carrying the dusky-red kimono under his arm.

For a while, the old woman lay there as if she were dead, but it was only a short time before she lifted her naked body off the corpses. Whimpering, she crawled over to the stairs, by the light of her still-lit torch. She stuck her head into the stairwell door, and looked down to the bottom of the gate, her short white hair hanging upside down. But outside, there was only the pitch-black darkness of night.

Where the servant went to, nobody knows.



As previously mentioned, there are three endings for this story.

The original ending (in modern orthography) is:
「下人は、既に、雨を冒して、京都の町へ強盗を働きに急ぎつつあった。」 ("The servant had already braved the rain and had hurried to Kyoto to begin the work of a thief.")

This was subsequently changed to:
「下人は、既に、雨を冒して、京都の町へ強盗を働きに急いでいた。」 with the same meaning.

Finally, the ending was changed to:
「下人の行方は、誰も知らない。」 ("Where the servant went to, nobody knows.")


https://web.archive.org/web/20160801182733/https://sites.google.com/site/renemalenfant/rashomon

let me smell your farts for israel

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

Plot summary

The story recounts the encounter between a servant and an old woman in the dilapidated Rashōmon, the southern gate of the then-ruined city of Kyoto, where unclaimed corpses were sometimes dumped. The current name of the gate in the story, but not the plot, comes from the Noh play Rashōmon (c. 1420).

The man, a lowly servant recently fired, is contemplating whether to starve to death or to become a thief to survive in the barren times. He goes upstairs, after noticing some firelight there, and encounters a woman who is stealing hair from the dead bodies on the second floor. He is disgusted, and decides then that he would rather take the path of righteousness even if it meant starvation. He is furious with the woman.

But the old woman tells him that she steals hair to make wigs, so she can survive. In addition, the woman who she is currently robbing cheated people in her life by selling snake meat and claiming it was fish. The old woman says that this was not wrong because it allowed the woman to survive — and so in turn this entitles her to steal from the dead person, because if she doesn't, she too will starve. The man responds: "You won't blame me, then, for taking your clothes. That's what I have to do to keep from starving to death". He then brutally robs the woman of her robe and disappears into the night.

let me smell your farts for israel

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

i have that at home but i haven't read it yet! thanks for the heads up!

👈😲 i slept on the sidewalk by the side of the castle in the Magic Kingdom 😴👉

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

its classic medieval horror with a gothic samurai touch!

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

i'll just have a list for now, i might start a separate list later.

my fav books of all time (fiction)

Les miserables Vitor Hugo
Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
The Star Rover - Jack London
Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
Infinite Jest - David Foster Wallace
The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle - Haruki Murakami
The Demons - Fyodor Dostoevsky
Dead Souls - Nikolai Gogol
To the Lighthouse - Virginia Woolf
The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man - James Joyce
V. - Thomas Pynchon
Wuthering Heights - Emily Brontë
Germinal - Émile Zola
All Russians Love Birch Tree - Olga Grjasnowa
The Country Girls -Edna O'Brien
Every Man Dies Alone - Hans Fallada
4 3 2 1 - Paul Auster
Nora Webster - Colm Tóibín
The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
The NeverEnding Story. - Michael Ende
The White Wolf - Käthe Recheis

👈😲 i slept on the sidewalk by the side of the castle in the Magic Kingdom 😴👉

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

Pynchon! how could I forget. V and Gravity's Rainbow, amazing books.

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

In Adulthood:
The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Robert Louis Stevenson.
Notre-Dame de Paris, Victor Hugo.
Dubliners, James Joyce.
Dracula, Bram Stoker.
The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde.
The Phantom of the Opera, Gaston Leroux.
Frankenstein, Mary Shelley.
As We Are Now, May Sarton.
A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens.
Great Expectations, Charles Dickens.
A Clockwork Orange, Anthony Burgess.
The Hobbit, JRR Tolkien.
The Sound and the Fury, William Faulkner.
The Scarlet Letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne.
Jaws, Peter Benchley.
Dante's Inferno, Dante.

From Childhood:
Coraline, Neil Gaiman.
The Phantom Tollbooth, Norton Juster.
The Old Willis Place, Mary Downing Hahn.
House of Dark Shadows, Robert Liparulo.

How unfortunate to be born at the end of the universe.

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

not Joyce's 'Ulysses'?

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

No. It's all right, but the appeal of Dubliners for me is that it's a collection of short stories. Joyce is an author of whom I am only fond in short spells.

That's not to say I dislike him, of course. He wrote my all-time favourite short story, "The Dead," which happens to feature in Dubliners.

How unfortunate to be born at the end of the universe.

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

since Corwin asked about Ulysses (which i havent read, the only other Joyce work i've read is Stephen the Hero tho), what do u think of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man?

👈😲 i slept on the sidewalk by the side of the castle in the Magic Kingdom 😴👉

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

I get it.

For me, first time I tried to read Ulysses, I gave up on early on. I tried again years later, and really enjoyed (most of) it, that time.

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

That's not to say I dislike him, of course. He wrote my all-time favourite short story, "The Dead," which happens to feature in Dubliners.

Depressing story. We're all distant memories.

let me smell your farts for israel

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

I'll add another great one I missed, "Forbidden Colors" by Yukio Mishima. It's about a wealthy old man in Japan who hires a charming and goodlooking male prostitute to seduce and torment the women in his life.

Uh, look man. Make tool! Caveman. No fool!
I GameBoy - H. superior

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

The name kinjiki is a euphemism for homosexuality. The kanji 禁 means "forbidden" and 色 in this case means "erotic love", although it can also mean "color".

let me smell your farts for israel

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

Mishima was a militant homosexual fascist, a true Homo Superior.

Uh, look man. Make tool! Caveman. No fool!
I GameBoy - H. superior

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

subway new employee training manual.

EAT FRESH!

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

Anything by Toni Morrison, Hurston, Fitzgerald, Steinbeck,Vonnegut, or Jane Austen. Vertigo by Louise Desalvo, Dare me by Megan Abbot. A rooms of Ones own by Virginia Wolfe.

Anything by Hemingway.

"You had me at Elk Tartare"
-Erin Wotherspoon

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

oh yeah Toni Morrison is good but i only know Jazz. Jane Austen was my fav writer when i started reading novels for leisure, her and Agatha Christie, loved her books.

👈😲 i slept on the sidewalk by the side of the castle in the Magic Kingdom 😴👉

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

The bluest eye is really good too.

"You had me at Elk Tartare"
-Erin Wotherspoon

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

The Stand by Stephen King.

The End.

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

one of my favorites

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/30597.The_Hunchback_of_Notre_Dame

most tragic character in it is was esmeralda's mother.


She is the love child of Paquette Guybertaut, nicknamed 'la Chantefleurie', an orphaned minstrel's daughter who lives in Rheims. Paquette has become a prostitute after being seduced by a young nobleman, and lives a miserable life in poverty and loneliness. Agnes's birth makes Paquette happy once more, and she lavishes attention and care upon her adored child: even the neighbours begin to forgive Paquette for her past behaviour when they watch the pair. Tragedy strikes, however, when Gypsies kidnap the young baby, leaving a hideously deformed child (the infant Quasimodo) in place.

spends her time in the roland's tower, which is in inspiration for Stephen King's novel The dark tower.

https://www.wattpad.com/130696767-la-esmeralda%27s-mother

let me smell your farts for israel

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

Gone with the Wind-It was a well written war story with a cast of characters that was irreplaceable.

“There are no atheists in foxholes, eh?”-Keith Jennings from the Omen.

Re: What are your favorite books of all time, and why?

To Kill a mockingbird.
As with many others, it left a lasting impression when I read it at an impressionable age. The injustice!

Fasten Your Seatbelts….
It's Going To Be A Bumpy Night!
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