alyeska

“With such a hell in your heart and your head, how can you live? How can you love?”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

“Literature is impoverished beyond our counting by the doors that have been shut upon women”
― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

“But for pain words are lacking. There should be cries, cracks, fissures, whiteness passing over chintz covers, interference with the sense of time, of space; the sense also of extreme fixity in passing objects; and sounds very remote and then very close; flesh being gashed and blood spurting, a joint suddenly twisted - beneath all of which appears something very important, yet remote, to be just held in solitude.”
― Virginia Woolf, The Waves

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.”
― Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities