plutosbigteeth

“But you aren’t really looking!” she exclaimed. “You are—” She flipped through her dictionary. “Wool, gathering!” “That’s true,” I said. “I am woolgathering.” “You are thinking about your friend,” she said. “That’s why you don’t want to listen to me.” “But Rózsa. Don’t you ever like to . . . to do woolgathering?” “No! I am not a dreamer.”
― Elif Batuman, The Idiot

“I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy
eyes—and moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle’s.”
― William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

“It's not the endings that will haunt you
But the space where they should lie,
The things that simply faded
Without one final wave goodbye.”
― Erin Hanson

“Leave Crete and sweep to this blest temple
Where apple-orchard's elegance
Is yours, and smouldering altars, ample
Frankincense.

Here under boughs a bracing spring
Percolates, roses without number
Umber the earth and, rustling,
The leaves drip slumber.

Here budding flowers possess a sunny
Pasture where steeds could graze their fill,
And the breeze feels as gentle as honey...

Kypris, here in the present blend
Your nectar with pure festal glee.
Fill gilded bowls and pass them round
Lavinshly.”
― Sappho