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I think how I don’t have as much time to decide as I once did. When I was a student here, anything in the world seemed possible. It hadn’t seemed like a dream to move far away and write books; it had seemed like a plan. At ten, I hadn’t thought wanting to be a writer was impractical; wanting to be a pirate princess was impractical and I had put that dream aside.

Laura Nowlin, If he had been with me

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More than anything else that body wanted to sleep. Sleep and wake up in another world. With the smell of her skin in the air that he breathed

Arundathi Roy, The God of Small Things

[warmshell]

Do you understand, Abdullah, how this was an act of mercy? The potion that erased these memories? It was Baba Ayub's reward for passing the div's second test.

Khaled Hosseini, And The Mountains Echoed

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Children aren't coloring books. You don't get to fill them with your favorite colors.

Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner

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Marriane had the sense that her real life was happening somewhere very far away, happening without her, and she didn’t know if she would ever find out where it was and become part of it.

Sally Rooney, Normal People

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It’s not the same crushing grief you felt at first, the kind that swamps you and makes you want to cry in the wrong places and get irrationally angry with all the idiots who are still alive when the person you love is dead. It’s just something you learn to accommodate. Like adapting around a hole. I don’t know. It’s like you become . . . a doughnut instead of a bun.

Jojo Moyes, After You

[warmshell]

now I have you, my dearest, I feel myself benevolently supported, and when I collapse I know it will not be forever, at least I think I know it, and can console you and myself with thoughts of better things to come.

Franz Kafka, Letters to Felice

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People think that intimacy is about sex. But intimacy is about truth. When you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can show yourself to them, when you stand in front of them bare and their response is “You’re safe with me”—that’s intimacy.

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, Taylor Jenkins Reid

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In those moments he wished, perversely, that he had never met her, that it was surely worse to have had her for so brief a period than to never have had her at all.

A Little Life, Hanya Yanagihara

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Don’t change too much,” I tell him. I fear he’ll return and won’t fit within my life anymore. He’ll grow beyond me while I stay stagnant and alone.

Addicted to You, Krista & Becca Richie

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But he would have to let go of me. He cannot. He holds me so tightly I can feel the faint beat of his chest, like the wings of a moth.

The Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller

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I clawed my way into the light but the light is just as scary. I’d rather quit. I’d rather be sad. It’s too much work.

War of The Foxes, Richard Siken

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The gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.

Crush, Richard Siken

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Why is it so hard to forget people?

Because they are not only present in the grand gestures but are engraved in our little moments. That is why I won't be able to forget him because whenever I will see a pineapple, i will remember he used to call me that and i hated it. He will be unable to forget me when he will see a muffin somewhere and remember i used to call him muffin and eventhough he hates muffins more than fries he still loved it when i called him muffin.

He will remember me when he will doze off while trying to read a book and remember how I told him that I'll read to him forcefully. While trying to forget him i will remember him everytime I get a nightmare and remember how he told me I'll always be safe until I'm in his arms.

My every birthday will remind me of him because there will be no birthday letters now at sharp 12. His every coming birthday will remind him of me because he'll get no emo birthday letters which will make him cry, but maybe he'll still cry.

[warmshell]

V: my panda wants to sleep now?

P: but then I'll miss you

V: just hide inside my arms

V: and i will keep caressing your hair

P: can i hold your hand too?

V: all of me is yours

V: whatever you'd like

*P just melted into a puddle after his last two lines*

[warmshell]

Looking at stars feels like God sprinkled glitter on the sky.

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If your letters are merely a comfort to me, like someone stroking one’s forehead,...

Franz Kafka, Letters to Felice