Bokelskere.no

I told him I loved him and that I'd always love him and I felt like a child who throws a centavo into a fountain and then she has to tell someone her most extraordinary wish even though she knows that the wish should be kept secret and that, in telling it, she is quite probably losing it.

The thing about love is that we come alive in bodies not our own.

There are rocks deep enough in this earth that no matter what the rupture, they will never see the surface. There is, I think, a fear of love. There is a fear of love.

The simple things come back to us. They rest for a moment by our ribcages then suddenly reach in and twist our hearts a notch backwards.