Whatever I am, you did it.
I love to smell flowers in the dark,” she said. “You get hold of their soul then.
L. M. Montogmery, Anne’s House of Dreams (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)
Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence.