Mia

“But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays
Upon this chequer-board of Nights and Days
Hither and thither moves, and checks and slays”
― Edward FitzGerald

“And once, or twice, to throw the dice is a gentlemanly game, But he does not win who plays with Sin in the secret house of shame”
― Oscar Wilde

“Their beauty had always seemed to him like the beauty of pressed flowers-lovely, but dead.”
― Cassandra Clare

“My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease;
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve,
Desire his death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,
At random from the truth vainly express'd;

For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.”
― William Shakespeare