Each of us wears a shadow. But just now it is summer again
Mary Oliver, The Pond, Devotions

tannertan36
Xuebing Du

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

Love Begins
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
noise dept.
hello vonnie

PR's Tumblrdome
One Nice Bug Per Day
Sweet Seals For You, Always
trying on a metaphor

roma★
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Cosimo Galluzzi
wallacepolsom
we're not kids anymore.
Not today Justin

Origami Around
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@de-la-bibliotheque
Each of us wears a shadow. But just now it is summer again
Mary Oliver, The Pond, Devotions
No man who values originality will ever be original. But try to tell the truth as you see it, try to do any bit of work as well as it can be done for the work's sake, and what men call originality will come unsought.
C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
If we take a close look at what contemporary men and women expect from priests, we will see that, in the end, they have but one great expectation: they are thirsting for Christ.
St. John Paul II, Gift and Mystery
The heart heals but never completely.
Anthony Doerr, Cloud Cuckoo Land
People tell boring lies about politics, God, and love. You know everything you need to know about a person from the answer to the question, What is your favorite book?
Gabrielle Zevin, The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry
'Can you see the sunset real good from the West Side?' She blinked, startled, the smiled. 'Real good.' 'You can see it good from the East Side, too.'
S.E. Hinton, The Outsiders
I don't want to be their tragic, lovely lacquer figure. I want to live.
R.F. Kuang, Babel, or the Necessity of Violence
And if that is the case, then why should I carry this love with me to the other world? Why not give to you what is yours?
Ann Patchett, Bel Canto
There is nothing to say . . . It is a gift. There. Something to give to you. If I had the necklace or a book of paintings I would give you that instead. I would give you that in addition to my love.
Ann Patchett, Bel Canto
Tell me I don't know you, Sam thought. Tell me I don't know you when I could draw both sides of this hand, your hand, from memory.
— Gabrielle Zevin, Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow
She could not see his humanity, and Noa realized that this was what he wanted most of all: to be seen as human.
Min Jin Lee, Pachinko
All her life, Sunja had heard this sentiment from other women, that they must suffer—suffer as a girl, suffer as a wife, suffer as a mother—die suffering. Go-saeng—the word made her sick. What else was there besides this?
Min Jin Lee, Pachinko
And in his listening, his heart opened wide and then wider still.
Kate DiCamillo, The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane
Unlikely, but perhaps, perhaps, perhaps . . .
R.F. Kuang, Babel, or the Necessity of Violence
We had made a fetish out of our misfortune, fallen in love with it.
Ann Patchett, The Dutch House
Words? This hurts too much.
Fredrik Backman, The Winners
Every new event—everything I did for the rest of my life—would only separate us more and more: days she was no longer a part of, an ever-growing distance between us. Every single day for the rest of my life, she would only be further away.
Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch