Dreaux

What do I think of you — what do you think of me? Who are you? Who am I? — that quivers again its uneasy air over us, and the pulse quickens and the eye brightens and all the insanity of personal existence without which life would fall flat and die, begins again.

I am too intelligent, too demanding, and too resourceful for anyone to be able to take charge of me entirely. No one knows me or loves me completely. I have only myself.

At fifteen you had the radiance of early morning, at twenty you will begin to have the melancholy brilliance of the moon.

Out of your vulnerabilities will come your strength.

Sometimes I think I have felt everything I’m ever gonna feel. And from here on out, I’m not gonna feel anything new. Just lesser versions of what I’ve already felt.

Her reputation for reading a great deal hung about her like the cloudy envelope of a goddess in an epic.