So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
— The Great Gatsby (via simpli-ci-ty)
I knew that I could hate him all I wanted for the way he was hurting me, but I couldn’t ever stop loving him, absolutely, for what he was.
— Paula McLain (via bornreadygeneration)
How unbelievably naive we both were that night. We clung hard to each other, making vows we couldn’t keep and should never have spoken out loud. That’s how love is sometimes.
— The Paris Wife (via winterwindssummerhearts)
All good books are alike in that they are truer than if they had really happened and after you are finished reading one you will feel that all that happened to you and afterwards it all belongs to you: the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was. If you can get so that you can give that to people, then you are a writer.
— Ernest Hemingway (via fractionally)