Marta Anna

“... Spring is a happiness so beautiful, so unique, so unexpected, that I don't know what to do with my heart.”
― Emily Dickinson, Emily Dickinson: Letters

“He never knows what he wants. It changes completely from minute to minute, and he has no decisive inner voice that says 'This is the real you, this is what you desire.' Ed is blurry, to even himself. His outlines are vague. This is fine except that you need to be solid for other people. To have relationships, to be trusted, you have to say, 'This is me, this is what I want' and act as if that were true at all times.”
― Oisín McKenna, Evenings and Weekends

“Then I howled into my pillow—a deep, blood-vessel-popping howl of frustration and envy directed at Will, at my friends, at everyone else who was out there starting jobs, taking trips, discovering new things—all unencumbered by illness. That everyone’s lives were starting while mine was over before it had begun seemed unspeakably unfair. When I’d run out of air, lungs burning, I stood up and walked across my room to the small wooden desk pushed up against the windows and flipped open my journal. The world is moving forward and I am stuck, I wrote.”
― Suleika Jaouad, Between Two Kingdoms: A Memoir of a Life Interrupted

“But, once in the open air, she paused. Some emotion - pity, terror, love, but the emotion was strong - seized her, and she was aware of autumn. Summer was ending, and the evening brought her odours of decay, the more pathetic because they were reminiscent of spring. That something or other mattered intellectually? A leaf, violently agitated, danced past her, while other leaves lay motionless. That the earth was hastening to re-enter darkness, and the shadows of those trees over Windy Corner?”
― E.M. Forster, A Room with a View