472239364:: “You’re so sweet to have done this.”“Rubbish.”“No, seriously, you...
“You’re so sweet to have done this.”
“Rubbish.”
“No, seriously, you are. It’s not every day I get breakfast cooked for me, ” I said, and put my arms around her waist.
She didn’t turn to look at me, but took my hand in hers and squeezed it for a moment.
“Don’t flatter yourself, it’s not for you I did this. I eat like this every weekend.
Her lie was symptomatic of a certain pride she took in mocking the romantic, in being unsentimental, matter-of-fact, stoic; yet at heart she was the opposite: idealistic, dreamy, giving and deeply attached to everything she liked verbally to dismiss as “mushy.”
—On Love; Alain de Botton
(Source: 52hearts)
How can you hate feeling sad when sadness is all you’ve ever known?
❝ One of us had loved the other more perfectly, had watched the other more closely, and one of us listened and the other hadn’t, and one of us held on to the ambition of the one idea far longer than was reasonable, whereas the other, passing a garbage can one night, had casually thrown it away.
— Nicole Krauss (via black-wolves)
(via falcade)
