Hilde March

“He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”
― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

“Are you kidding?” I stop in the middle of the kitchen. Spin around. My face is pulled together in disbelief. “You’ve spoken to me maybe once in the two weeks I’ve been here. I hardly even notice you anymore.”

“Okay, hold up,” he says, turning to block my path. “We both know there’s no way you haven’t noticed all of this” — he gestures to himself — “so if you’re trying to play games with me, I should let you know up front that it’s not going to work.”

“What?” I frown. “What are you talking abou—”

“You can’t play hard to get, kid.” He raises an eyebrow. “I can’t even touch you. Takes ‘hard to get’ to a whole new level, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh my God,” I mouth, eyes closed, shaking my head. “You are insane.”

He falls to his knees. “Insane for your sweet, sweet love!”
― Tahereh Mafi, Unravel Me

“I love walking into a bookstore. It's like all my friends are sitting on shelves, waving their pages at me.”
― Tahereh Mafi

“A day wasted on others is not wasted on one's self.”
― Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities