Was she really beautiful? Was she at least what they call attractive? She was exasperation, she was torture.
- Vladimir Nabokov, Ada, or Ardor: A Family Chronicle (via myukun)
(Source: seabois, via gozart)
In the end, only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.
They tell us the people we love are 72.8% water-
there is no such thing as crying,
we are only trying to turn ourselves inside out.
This is a noble pursuit
You love someone, you open yourself up suffering, that’s the sad truth. Maybe they’ll break your heart, maybe you’ll break their heart and never be able to look at yourself in the same way. Those are the risks. That’s the burden. Like wings they have weight, we feel that weight on our backs, but they are a burden that lifts us. Burdens which allow us to fly…
Look down at me and you see a fool. Look up at me and you see a god. Look straight at me and you see yourself
It’s one thing to fall in love. It’s another to feel someone else fall in love with you, and to feel a responsibility toward that love.