#nigh

You know those nights where the day has unfolded in such a way that now, in the night, you can feel all the gaps in your body and you can see all the reasons you’re not who you wish you were - you know those nights where the only sound is of you drinking and the people outside who have each other to drink with - those nights when you’re unable to think or be or do because of the paralyzing loneliness - it feels like a hundred of those nights - stitched together and squared - and they come to me in a blush. ↗

— Stefan Golaszewski

#night #stefan-golaszewski #love

Por que ele... Não será você? Por que não é como você? Ele vale menos, e, entretanto, gosto mais dele do que de você. ↗

— Fyodor Dostoyevsky

#love #white-nights #why #love

When I first saw you when we were destined, I promised myself that I wouldn't force you to love me, but I would find a way to win you. ↗

— Andrea Cremer

#calla #nightshade #ren #love

See I'm the reckless and wild one who saves him from being boring. It's why we're perfect for each other. We balance. - Madame Selena ↗

— Sherrilyn Kenyon

#seize-the-night #marriage

The Castle. He’d seen this expression far too many times during their marriage. The Castle was Bryony drawing up the gates and retreating deep into the inner keep. And he’d always hated it. Marriage meant that you shared your goddamn castle. You didn’t leave your poor knight of a husband circling the walls trying to find a way in. ↗

— Sherry Thomas

#knight #leo #sherry-thomas #marriage

A man would always wish to give a woman a better home than the one he takes her from; and he who can do it, where there is no doubt of her regard, must, I think, be the happiest of mortals. ↗

— Jane Austen

#knightley #love #marriage #love

Muggle women wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear these," said the Ministry wizard, and he brandished the pinstriped trousers. "I'm not putting them on," said old Archie in indignation. "I like a healthy breeze 'round my privates, thanks. ↗

— J.K. Rowling

#muggles #nightgown #men

On moonlight nights the long, straight street and dirty white walls, nowhere darkened by the shadow of a tree, their peace untroubled by footsteps or a dog's bark, glimmered in the pale recession. The silent city was no more than an assemblage of huge, inert cubes, between which only the mute effigies of great men, carapaced in bronze, with their blank stone or metal faces, conjured up a sorry semblance of what the man had been. In lifeless squares and avenues these tawdry idols lorded it under the lowering sky; stolid monsters that might have personified the rule of immobility imposed on us, or, anyhow, its final aspect, that of a defunct city in which plague, stone, and darkness had effectively silenced every voice. ↗

— Albert Camus

#night #plague #men

We should live, my Lesbia, and love And value all the talk of stricter Old men at a single penny. Suns can set and rise again; For us, once our brief light has set, There's one unending night for sleeping. Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, Then another thousand, then a second hundred, Then still another thousand, then a hundred; Then, when we've made many thousands, We'll muddle them so as not to know Or lest some villain overlook us Knowing the total of our kisses. (Translated by Guy Lee) ↗

— Catullus

#kisses #lesbia #love #night #romance

The wind blew through the window. The trousers swayed. Doubtless when they were on Mr. Craggs, the trousers looked splendid and went perfectly well together with his body. But like this, isolated in space, Mr. Cragg's trousers were nightmarish. The wind blew through the window. As they swayed, the trousers were alive. A shot, truncated, square creature consisting entirely of legs, belly and what went with them. And now it would get down and start walking among people and over people and grow and... ↗

— Yevgeny Zamyatin

#surrealistic #trousers #men