Britt

“I knew then I would chase your tiny moments of weakness all the way into hell and back. What is more lovely, after all, than a monster undone with wanting?”
― S.T. Gibson, A Dowry of Blood

“Because the truth is that at the age of thirty-five, I have yet to love someone enough to sacrifice for them. I’ve yet to open my heart enough to let someone in that much.”
― Taylor Jenkins Reid, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

“I’d like to run away, to flee from what I know, from what is mine, from what I love. I want to set off, not for some impossible Indies or for the great islands that lie far to the south of all other lands, but for anywhere, be it village or desert, that has the virtue of not being here. What I want is not to see these faces, this daily round of days. I want a rest from, to be other than, my habitual pretending. I want to feel the approach of sleep as if it were a promise of life, not rest. A hut by the sea, even a cave on a rugged mountain ledge, would be enough. Unfortunately, my will alone cannot give me that.”
― Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

“Sylvia could reject her in every way—she could drain all the blood from Aster’s body in one long drink—and Aster would forgive her. Aster could die and she’d haunt Sylvia as a ghost, holding her hand wherever she went without her even knowing.”
― Valerie Hunter, The Girl Who Bit Me