““Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.”
— Anaïs Nin
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It is hard to stare at her, hard because she’s not the distant Girl who smiles at me anymore. She has become more than that, more than I expected her to become and more than I was looking for her to become. …It is hard to stare at her because as I know she is starting to love me, I am starting to love her. I don’t care what she’s done or who she’s done it with. I don’t care about whatever demons may be in her closet. I care about how she makes me feel and she makes me feel strong and safe and calm and warm and true.
James Frey, A Million Little Pieces (via books-n-quotes)
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