"What Had Happened That Night In The Odysseides Home Was Like Phantom Tide That Swept In And Out Of Her

"When you are a person who always care about others then who is supposed to care about you ".

"Life is the thing you bring with you inside your head."

Alexandra Bracken, Lore

“You’re so obsessed with finding someone to love you because you can’t love yourself.”

— Unknown

“Soon we’ll be old and ugly. Life is short, you know? Die young and leave a beautiful corpse. Who said that?”

“Someone who liked fucking corpses.”

Ottessa Mosfegh, My Year of Rest and Relaxation

You know what the problem is, I always give other people amazing and useful gift but they never give me a proper gift . There gifts are always useless. So from now on I have also started to give them cheap and useless gifts. Tit for tat :-).

"But you were like this invincible force to me,even then. You were a safe place to hide my hopes."

Alexandra Bracken, Lore

Does it ever happen to you that you suddenly start to cry and you keep on crying but actually you do not know the reason behind it? You just cry!

Stories were living inside us. I think we were born to tell our stories. After we died, our stories would survive.

Maybe it was our stories that fed the universe the energy it needed to keep on giving life.Maybe all we were meant to do on this earth was to keep on telling stories.

Our stories—and the stories of the people we loved.

Benjamin Alire Sáenz, Aristotle and Dante Dive into the Waters of the World

"We are all alone trapped in these bodies and our minds and whatever company we have in this life is only fleeting and superficial."

Jennifer Niven, All the bright places

In the end, that was the problem with romance. It was so easy to romanticise romance because it was everywhere. It was in music and on TV and in filtered Instagram photos. It was in the air, crisp and alive with fresh possibility. It was in falling leaves, crumbling wooden doorways, scuffed cobblestones and fields of dandelions. It was in the touch of hands, scrawled letters, crumpled sheets and the golden hour. A soft yawn, early morning laughter, shoes lined up together by the door. Eyes across a dance floor.

I could see it all, all the time, all around, but when I got closer, I found that nothing was there.

A mirage.

Loveless by Alice Oseman