The Goldfinch
The Goldfinch

The Goldfinch


Donna Tartt

Full Title

The Goldfinch

Last Highlighted
June 2, 2022 11:56 PM (CDT)
Last Synced
June 8, 2023 1:12 PM (CDT)

Location 34:

Protestant probity, co-mingled with deep-dyed luxury brought

Tags: pink

Location 124:

until eleven-thirty but since my mother

Location 1204:

She was a masterpiece of composure; nothing ever ruffled her or made her upset, and though she was not beautiful her calmness had the magnetic pull of beauty—a stillness so powerful that the molecules realigned themselves around her when she came into a room.

Location 4240:

democracy is excuse for any fucking thing. Violence… greed… stupidity… anything is ok if Americans do it. Right?

Location 4248:

this.” He’d gone back to my room for my school copy of Walden and was reading aloud a lengthy passage that bolstered some point he was trying to make. The thrown book—luckily a paperback—clipped me in the cheekbone. “Ischézni! Get out!” “This is my house, you ignorant fuck.” The cocktail sausage—still

Location 5897:

blonde but a darker, rust color and a

Location 5897:

bit straggly, like her aunt Margaret’s.

Location 7246:

detect an inaccuracy—say a style of carving

Location 8103:

what you like.” “Yes, but—” I’d unboxed so much china from funeral sales and broken-up households that there was something almost unspeakably sad about the pristine, gleaming displays, with their tacit assurance that shiny new tableware promised an equally shiny and tragedy-free future. “Chinois? Or

Location 8153:

fluttered, laughed nervously and at her own jokes, with a ghost of

Location 9397:

inquired of me in a sleepy gallant voice: “He’s a margrave,

Location 9440:

shaken to talk. For a while we both walked with heads down and there was no noise except the two of us clicking along the park path in darkness, our footsteps seeming

Location 11274:

edges, ringing the just-visible ghost

Location 11354:

to think better of it: Where are you?

Location 12419:

here’s the truth: life is catastrophe. The basic fact of existence—of walking around trying to feed ourselves and find friends and whatever else we do—is catastrophe.