penelopewallace,the lost art of keeping secrets Sometimes I find it hard being eighteen. My father fought and died so that I could think luxurious thoughts about pop singers and Yardley perfume.
jomarchandtheodorelaurence,little women by louisa may alcott You’ve got me, anyhow. I’m not good for much, I know, but I’ll stand by you, Jo, all the days of my life. Upon my word I will!
the penelopiad by margaret atwood, lore olympus by rachel smythe, ariadneby jennifer saint, circeby madeline miller, the song of achiles by madeline miller, the lightning thief by rick riordan
his voice is breathless and full of fear. “i’ll love you forever. even when i can’t.” my tears fall harder at his words. “and i’ll love you forever. even when i shouldn’t.”
Were you in love with him?’ ‘Yes,’ I say, simply. James and I put each other through the kind of reckless passions Gwendolyn once talked about, joy and anger and desire and despair. After all that, was it really so strange? I am no longer baffled or amazed or embarrassed by it. 'Yes, I was.’ It’s not the whole truth. The whole truth is, I’m in love with him still.
❝ i could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; i would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. i would know him in death, at the end of the world.❞
