That is how you know you've left childhood behind-when you wish for time to go backward.

Love was like that, like a dream you didn't quite understand, one in which you didn't necessarily know what you were looking at until it was right in front of you.

I wasn't quite as certain that I knew her soul. When it came right down to it, I wasn't sure she knew me either.

Our rest is formed by our waking life and our waking life is formed by our sorrows.

I think love is a huge factor in fiction and in real life. Is there a risk? Always. In fiction and in life

Just because something is unspoken doesn't mean that it disappears.

I must keep my head and not give in to desire, for desire is what causes women to drown.