read_by_mal

“Simon, the mystery of him, and somehow as I looked out the taxi window I started to think about his physical presence in the city, that somewhere inside the city’s structure, standing or sitting, holding his arms one way or another, dressed or undressed, he was present, and Dublin was like an advent calendar concealing him behind one of its million windows, and the quality of the air was instilled, the temperature was instilled, with his presence, and with youre mail, and with this message I was writing back to you in my head even then. The world seemed capable of including these things, and my eyes were capable, my brain was capable, of receiving and understanding them. I was tired, it was late, I was sitting half-asleep in the back of a taxi, remembering strangely that wherever I go, you are with me, and so is he, and that as long as you both live the world will be beautiful to me.”
― Sally Rooney, Beautiful World, Where Are You

“His smile fades into something sadder. “She has beautiful eyes,” he says softly, like he’s lost to memory. “They’re brown and green and amber, like every color of every season. I’ve looked everywhere for eyes like hers, and nothing has ever been able to compare.”
― Rachel Schneider, Metal Slinger

“It was October, after all. And October was poetry all in its own, where dying leaves were the flowers, and the chill nibbled your flesh like a lover’s bite.”
― Nicole Fiorina, Hollow Heathens

“Fuck all the first, Sky. The only thing that matters to me with you are the forevers.”
― Colleen Hoover, Hopeless / Losing Hope / Finding Cinderella