Actually that’s my secret — I can’t even talk about you to anybody because I don’t want any more people to know how wonderful you are.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night (via larmoyante)
I desired always to stretch the night and fill it fuller and fuller with dreams.
— Virginia Woolf (via pearldusk)
Loneliness becomes an acid that eats away at you.
— Haruki Murakami, 1Q84 (via mysticae)
That fucked up feeling you get when you go through the same fucking shit as before.
