Jorge Gerrits

“He locked you up because he knew—the bastard knew what a treasure you are. That you are worth more than land or gold or jewels. He knew, and wanted to keep you all to himself.”

The words hit me, even as they soothed some jagged piece in my soul. “He did—does love me, Rhysand.”

“The issue isn’t whether he loved you, it’s how much. Too much. Love can be a poison.” And then he was gone.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. I felt fear more times than I can remember, but I hid it behind a mask of boldness. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear”
― Dalai Lama XIV, The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World

“Many of us, remembering the now remote erotic attachments of our youth, [. . .] find that involuntarily we remain haunted by a voice we heard emanating from the beloved that seemed timeless and therefore permanent. There is some link that binds together the making of a poem, the illusions of recall, and the tenuous expectation that somehow we will hear again the voice that preceded the instauration of a cosmos forlorn and vagrant, through which we bleakly wander, unable to distinguish what was and what we strain to find again.”
― Harold Bloom, Possessed by Memory: The Inward Light of Criticism

“After all her years in the Pietà, she had learned the greatest gift she could give them was dispensing words of encouragement that prodded them forward.”
― Jennifer Wizbowski, Poinsettia Girl: The Story of Agata della Pieta