God, give us a long winter
and quiet music, and patient mouths,
and a little pride—before
our age ends.
All the hardest, coldest people you meet were once as soft as water. And that’s the tragedy of living.
There is an otherness inside us we never touch.
Time is a funny thing. I was always puzzled with the way a single day could stretch itself out to the point of eternity in your mind, all while years melted down into the fraction of a second.
Gloria Naylor, Mama Day
You are too much of everything I dared to imagine.
Vita Sackville-West, The Letters Of Vita Sackville-West To Virginia Woolf
Do you take pride in your hurt? Does it make you seem large and tragic?