“I am eternally, devastatingly romantic, and I thought people would see it because ‘romantic’ doesn’t mean ‘sugary’. It’s dark and tormented- the furor of passion, the despair of an idealism that you can’t attain.”
“I just want to tell you, at some point it doesn’t matter who was right and who was wrong. At some point, being angry is just another bad habit, like smoking, and you keep poisoning yourself without thinking about it.”
When I die, my heaven will be that of endless shelves of different books, old and new,written by angels, demons and humans alike. It will be that of libraries with soft cushions and a rocking chair by the fireplace. With a long table by the tall window, staring at the view ahead of the hill.
When I die, my heaven will be that of sighing softly while seasons change. While camellias bloom and small animals start to come out of their shelter, hot days that give no choice but to swim in the lake close to the castle, leaves start falling and the shades of brown and hazel start to settle in, and when sitting by the fireplace with a hot cup of tea in hand as a mattress of white covers all grounds.
When I die, my heaven will be that of walking barefoot inside the walls of the castle and on the soft grass. It will be that of finding solace from books, nature and its enchanting being.
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