Deppysaur

“I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love. For it is a fever, and a burden, too, whatever the poets may say. They are not brave, the days when we are twenty-one. They are full of little cowardices, little fears without foundation, and one is so easily bruised, so swiftly wounded, one falls to the first barbed word. To-day, wrapped in the complacent armour of approaching middle age, the infinitesimal pricks of day by day brush one but lightly and are soon forgotten, but then--how a careless word would linger, becoming a fiery stigma, and how a look, a glance over a shoulder, branded themselves as things eternal. A denial heralded the thrice crowing of a cock, and an insincerity was like the kiss of Judas. The adult mind can lie with untroubled conscience and a gay composure, but in those days even a small deception scoured the tongue, lashing one against the stake itself.”
― Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca

“Like those who see so clearly while they dream that marks of feeling, when their dreaming ends, remain, though nothing more returns to mind, so I am now. For nearly all I saw has gone, even if, still, within my heart, there drops the sweetness that was born from that.”
― Dante Alighieri, Love that Moves the Sun and Other Stars

“Whatever teaches us to talk to ourselves is important: whatever teaches us to sing ourselves our of despair.”
― Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch