#th

As he read, I feel in love the way you fall asleep: slow, and then all at once. ↗

— John Green

#the-fault-in-our-stars #ya #love

For millions of years flowers have been producing thorns. For millions of years sheep have been eating them all the same. And it's not serious, trying to understand why flowers go to such trouble to produce thorns that are good for nothing? It's not important, the war between the sheep and the flowers? It's no more serious and more important than the numbers that fat red gentleman is adding up? Suppose I happen to know a unique flower, one that exists nowhere in the world except on my planet, one that a little sheep can wipe out in a single bite one morning, just like that, without even realizing what he'd doing - that isn't important? If someone loves a flower of which just one example exists among all the millions and millions of stars, that's enough to make him happy when he looks at the stars. He tells himself 'My flower's up there somewhere...' But if the sheep eats the flower, then for him it's as if, suddenly, all the stars went out. And that isn't important? ↗

— Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

#importance #longing #love #protection #roses

أمي ، هي الشخص الوحيد الذي يكاد يفهمني في كل شيء ↗

— هديل الحضيف

#mother #stories #love

An intellectual snob is someone who can listen to the William Tell Overture and not think of The Lone Ranger. ↗

— Dan Rather

#listen #lone #lone ranger #overture #ranger

I beg you, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer. ↗

— Rainer Maria Rilke

#living #patience #questioning #truth #love

The most powerful force in a woman's life is the need to be appreciated, loved and cherished for what she is. ↗

— Amish Tripathi

#life

My whole life, I had thought that my story was, again and again: Once upon a time, there was a boy, and he had to risk everything to keep what he loved. But really, the story was: Once upon a time, there was a boy, and his fear ate him alive. ↗

— Maggie Stiefvater

#fear #life #love #risk #story

As the pain that can be told is but half a pain, so the pity that questions has little healing in its touch. What Lily craved was the darkness made by enfolding arms, the silence which is not solitude, but compassion holding its breath. ↗

— Edith Wharton

#empathy #love #love

I didn’t know how I could live with that knowledge, without it eating me up, without it poisoning every happy memory I had of growing up. Without it ruining everything Beck and I had. I didn’t understand how someone could be both God and the devil. How the same person could destroy you and save you. When everything I was, good and bad, was knotted with threads of his making, how was I supposed to know whether to love or hate him? ↗

— Maggie Stiefvater

#love #parenting #sam-roth #love

Do you want this to be a love story? ↗

— Jenny Downham

#sad #tom #truth #love