My love drains me. I allow this. My love for others never seems to wane, to lie fallow, to hibernate, to be listless, negative, in repose. I am never indifferent, lazy or inert. My love is intensely attentive and I can only reach indifference by weariness.
Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anais Nin, Vol. 6: 1955-1966 (via violentwavesofemotion)













