Marguerite Duras, The Lover

― Emily Dickinson

“She imagines him imagining her. This is her salvation.”

— Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin (via drearydoll)

𝑁𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟: vanilla macarons, soft rain, oversized blazers & cashmere cardigans, cinnamon scented candles, velvet hair ribbons, spending nights by the fireplace

Fade Into You - Mazzy Star / Slow Like Honey - Fiona Apple

I swear to you that to think too much is a disease, a real, actual disease. - Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from the Underground

ancient greek word of the night: νυκτόμαντις (nyktomantis), one who prophesies by night

“Any idiot can face a crisis; it’s this day-to-day living that wears you out.”

—

Anton Chekhov (b. 29 January 1860)

“And we together sadly sank Into a reverie.”

— Emily Brontë, from A Day Dream

Louise Glück, From Descending Figure; “The Garden”

Yes, I did write in my letter that I would wait for you forever. I didn’t mean exactly “forever,” I just included it for the rhythm.

— Dunya Mikhail, from “Non-Military Statements,” The War Works Hard tr. Elizabeth Winslow