I looked and looked at her, and I knew, as clearly as I know that I will die, that I loved her more than anything I had ever seen or imagined on earth. She could fade and wither - I didn’t care. I would still go mad with tenderness at the mere sight of her face.
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| — | Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita (via catholicschoolprincess) |
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I can only note that the past is beautiful because one never realises an emotion at the time. It expands later, and thus we don’t have complete emotions about the present, only about the past.
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| — | Virginia Woolf (via indicio) |
