I DREAMED ABOUT SINNING AGAIN.

You know, love doesn’t mean ‘I never want you to change’. But I don’t think it means ‘I don’t care if you change’ either. So I suppose it might mean, ‘I believe that you’ll always be the person I adore’. A declaration of faith, perhaps.”

Love doesn’t just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all the time, made new.

“To love somebody is not just a strong feeling — it is a decision, it is a judgement, it is a promise. If love were only a feeling, there would be no basis for the promise to love each other forever. A feeling comes and it may go.”

Dear Lily: My mother taught me many things but she did not teach me this: where does it come from, the thread that ties us together? Who spun it? What is it composed of, what is its matter? I have half a mind to unpick myself, to find the source, but I won't.

That day in the field of green and golds. You said who are you, where did you come from. I said I came from the hill; I am the girl who does not die. You laughed, and I fell in love with you, there. there: I wrote it down, I turned it into ink and made it something tangible (but you could burn this letter and I would still love you, so it must be something beyond matter). See it here in black and white. I love you, girl from the house on the hill, girl with the hair made of sunbeams. I love you, knot in my heart. I love you, hands on my hands, hands on my ribs, mouth on my mouth. I love you, stone in my shoe. I love only you. only you. Only ever you

I’m a little bit shy.😳