Alex Thomas

“Life is mad, licentious, turbulent—like a lake on an August night.… Many victims have disappeared for ever beneath its dark waves … Heavy dregs lie at the bottom. But why, at certain moments, do I love it?”
― Anton Chekhov

“Selden and Lily stood still, accepting the unreality of the scene as a part of their own dream-like sensations. It would not have surprised them to feel a summer breeze on their faces, or to see the lights among the boughs reduplicated in the arch of a starry sky. The strange solitude about them was no stranger than the sweetness of being alone in it together.”
― Edith Wharton, The House of Mirth