Her heart was a secret garden and the walls were very high
The astonishing light of your own being
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"I wish I had the courage not to fight and doubt everything… I wish, just once, I could say, ‘This. This is good enough.’"
Chuck Palahniuk (via
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"Oh, darling, you will be good to me, won’t you? Because we’re going to have a strange life."
A Farewell to Arms
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"In my mind I am eloquent; I can climb intricate scaffolds of words to reach the highest cathedral ceilings and paint my thoughts. But when I open my mouth, everything collapses."
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"There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self."
Ernest Hemingway (via
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"How wonderful it is, to be silent with someone."
Kurt Tucholsky (via
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"I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your un-dumb letters, would never write so elementary a phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn’t even feel it. And yet I believe you’ll be sensible of a little gap. But you’d clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it would lose a little of its reality. Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is just really a squeal of pain. It is incredible how essential to me you have become. I suppose you are accustomed to people saying these things. Damn you, spoilt creature; I shan’t make you love me any the more by giving myself away like this - But oh my dear, I can’t be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don’t love. I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defences. And I don’t really resent it."
Vita Sackville-West, from a
to Virginia Woolf dated
21 January 1926
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"In a way, you are poetry material; You are full of cloudy subtleties I am willing to spend a lifetime figuring out. Words burst in your essence and you carry their dust in the pores of your ethereal individuality."
Letters To Milena
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