He made me love him without looking at me. — Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre (via larmoyante)
Auspicious Cranes (1112) inks on silk.
Huizong of Song (1082–1135)
Lists of books we re-read and books we can’t finish tell more about us than about the relative worth of the books themselves. — Russell Banks (via larmoyante)
We wear clothes, and speak, and create civilizations, and believe we are more than wolves. But inside us there is a word we cannot pronounce and that is who we are. — Anthony Marra, A Constellation of Vital Phenomena (via larmoyante)
We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged into and swum up as if rivers of wisdom, characters we have climbed into as if trees, fears we have hidden in as if caves.
(Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient)
(Source: andforgotten, via balladedutempsjadis)