Andrew

“We found each other for so long before we lost each other.”
― Jeffrey Eugenides

“All I ever did to that apartment was hang fifty yards of yellow theatrical silk across the bedroom windows, because I had some idea that the gold light would make me feel better, but I did not bother to weight the curtains correctly and all that summer the long panels of transparent golden silk would blow out the windows and get tangled and drenched in afternoon thunderstorms. That was the year, my twenty-eighth, when I was discovering that not all of the promises would be kept, that some things are in fact irrevocable and that it had counted after all, every evasion and ever procrastination, every word, all of it.”
― Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem

“And he would wake sometimes in grief, sometimes with the old sense of joy and release; the pillow sometimes wet, sometimes the sheets.”
― Annie Proulx, Brokeback Mountain

“A joy without object or reason rose within him, but like all such joys ebbed into frustration almost immediately because he did not know how to express it.”
― John Clellon Holmes, Go