“Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one’s life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one’s side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music; perhaps… perhaps… love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath.”—Anne of Avonlea, L.M. Montgomery (via ripthepage)
“It’s knowing I’ll never have what she has—a beauty so powerful it brings things to you. I fear I will always have to chase things I want. I’ll always have to wonder whether I’m truly wanted or whether I’ve just been settled for.”—Libba Bray
It’s startling. To realize that, though I’m away, finally by myself— figuring out my future: back home, life is going on like normal. Home is changing and i’m not around to see it. And that isn’t to say that I want to be there, simply that it’s difficult to imagine: when I finally make my way back, “home” won’t be quite the same place it was when I left it.
“A stranger is shot in the street, you hardly move to help. But if, half an hour before, you spent just ten minutes with the fellow and knew a little about him and his family, you might just jump in front of his killer and try to stop it. Really knowing is good. Not knowing, or refusing to know is bad, or amoral, at least. You can’t act if you don’t know.”— Ray Bradbury (Something Wicked This Way Comes)