“What most people call loving consists of picking out a woman and marrying her. They pick her out, I swear, I’ve seen them. As if you could pick in love, as if it were not a lightning bolt that splits your bones and leaves you staked out in the middle of the courtyard. They probably say that they pick her out because-they-love-her, I think it’s just the siteoppo. Beatrice wasn’t picked out, Juliet wasn’t picked out. You don’t pick out the rain that soaks you to a skin when you come out of a concert.”—Julio Cortazar (via alibis-not-needed-anymore)
“‘How do you know when it’s over?’
‘Maybe when you feel more in love with your memories than with the person standing in front of you.’”— Gunnar Ardelius, I Need You More Than I Love You and I Love You to Bits (via larmoyante)
“Afterward she lies nestled against me, her hair tickling my face. I stroke her lightly, memorizing her body. I want her to melt into me, like butter on toast. I want to absorb her and walk around for the rest of my days with her encased in my skin.”—Sara Gruen (Water For Elephants)
“I want to fuck you in a meadow of poppies and clovers underneath the harvest moon. Afterwards I will feed you flowers and you can weave blades of grass in my hair. We will lick each other’s wounds and smudge dirt on our breasts and moan and howl til the sun comes up and exposes our perfection.”—(via thestarsshinebright)
I just want to get a cute apartment with a cute person and wear nothing but underwear and a big t-shirt or sweater and dance around, cook for each other, make our own movies and record each other while we’re playing, smiling, and laughing, and lay in bed together at night snuggled up warm together so close that we can here each others pulse.