#winter

Nothing is as tedious as the limping days, When snowdrifts yearly cover all the ways, And ennui, sour fruit of incurious gloom, Assumes control of fate’s immortal loom ↗

— Charles Baudelaire

#winter #paris

Kenapa harus takut gelap kalau ada banyak hal indah yang hanya bisa dilihat sewaktu gelap? -Nishimura Kazuto ↗

— Ilana Tan

#winter

Don't be amazed if you see my eyes always wandering. In fact, this is my way of reading, and it is only in this way that reading proves fruitful to me. If a book truly interests me, I cannot follow it for more than a few lines before my mind, having seized on a thought that the text suggests to it, or a feeling, or a question, or an image, goes off on a tangent and springs from thought to thought, from image to image, in an itinerary of reasonings and fantasies that I feel the need to pursue to the end, moving away from the book until I have lost sight of it. The stimulus of reading is indispensable to me, and of meaty reading, even if, of every book, I manage to read no more than a few pages. But those few pages already enclose for me whole universes, which I can never exhaust. ↗

— Italo Calvino

#calvino #if #italo #night #on

I could have lied. I could have fought. But desperate times call for desperate measures, so I took a chance and called upon a Gallagher Girl's weapon of last resort. I flirted ↗

— Ally Carter

#flirt #gallagher-girls #preston-winters #winter

I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. ↗

— T.S. Eliot

#winter #winter

Annabelle’s eyes stung as she stared at him, while need and inexhaustible tenderness gathered like an ache in her body. “I realized something,” she said huskily, “when I was standing outside the foundry, watching it burn and knowing you were inside.” She swallowed hard against the thickness in her throat. “I would rather have died in your arms, Simon, than face a lifetime without you. All those endless years… all those winters, summers… a hundred seasons of wanting you and never having you. Growing old, while you stayed eternally young in my memories.” She bit her lip and shook her head, while her eyes flooded. “I was wrong when I told you that I didn’t know where I belonged. I do. With you, Simon. Nothing matters except being with you. You’re stuck with me forever, and I’ll never listen when you tell me to go.” She managed a tremulous smile. “So you may as well stop complaining and resign yourself to it. ↗

— Lisa Kleypas

#hunt #simon #wallflower #winter

Never. Never ask for what ought to be offered. ↗

— Daniel Woodrell

#winter

Walls protect and walls limit. It is in the nature of walls that they should fall. That walls should fall is the consequence of blowing your own trumpet. ↗

— Jeanette Winterson

#oranges-are-not-the-only-fruit #walls #nature

Last winter when I was coming home from church one Thursday evening, I saw somebody run around the house again. I told my father of that. ↗

— Lizzie Andrew Borden

#around #church #coming #coming home #evening