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  1. Today
  2. The Firework-Maker's Daughter, Philip Pullman
  3. Nicomo Cosca (The First Law-series - Joe Abercrombie) Francis
  4. I felt that Id a right to song And sung – but in a timid strain Of fondness for my native plain For every thing I felt a love The weeds below the birds above And weeds that bloomed in summers hours I thought they should be reckoned flowers They made a garden free for all And so I loved them great and small... And so it cheered me while I lay Among their beautiful array To think that I in humble dress Might have a right to happiness And sing as well as greater men And then I strung the lyre agen And heartened up and oer toil and fear And lived with rapture every where ... My harp tho simple was my own When I was in the fields alone With none to help and none to hear To bid me either hope or fear... No matter how the world approved Twas nature listened – I that loved. John Clare – from ‘The Progress of Rhyme’
  5. Late indian summer days that are in general sunny with just some clouds. They bear the melancholy for the past summer in them, and at the same time already the hope for the next summer some 7 to 8 months down the road. They feel like some kind of magic to me. Francis
  6. Meursault (The Stranger).
  7. We can't go anywhere with that because there is only one word and you've already used it.
  8. Yesterday
  9. She left me with a bouquet of flowers that never bloomed, and a muse with bleeding verses that never rhymed At nights when her name is dancing on my tongue, I hunger for the cherries she once promised to feed me Cherry Promise, N (the only credit I could find)
  10. Last week
  11. Doctor Faustus - (Christopher Marlowe)
  12. The Red House Mystery - A A Milne
  13. The House on the Strand - Daphne du Maurier
  14. Piranesi, Susanna Clarke, The Aeneid, Virgil and Agua Viva, Clarice Lispector
  15. Secrets of the Sea House - Elisabeth Gifford
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