I may be cynical when I say that very rarely is the beloved more than a shaping spirit for the lover’s dreams. And perhaps such a thing is enough. To be a muse may be enough. The pain is when the dreams change, as they do, as they must. Suddenly the enchanted city fades and you are left alone again in the windy desert. As for your beloved, she didn’t understand you. The truth is, you never understood yourself.
― Jeannette Winterson, Sexing the Cherry (via bookmania)
Jun 01 2:13 with 351 notes
i had not known, before us, that every vein in my body was capable of carrying light, like a river seen from a train makes a channel of sky etch itself deep into a landscape. i had not really known i could be so much more than myself; i had not known another body could do this to mine.
― Ali Smith (via beryl-azure)
Jun 01 1:37 with 101 notes
Growing up is losing some illusions in order to acquire others.
― Virginia Woolf (via belle-de-nuit)
(Source: blua)
May 30 15:12 with 931 notes
