Sometimes when I’m really enjoying a book, I’ll read a sentence or paragraph and just think - how can someone’s head be wired in such a way that they’d come up with that?
—Joe Abercrombie (via kushandwizdom)
Love is not all: It is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain,
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
and rise and sink and rise and sink again.
Love cannot fill the thickened lung with breath
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
pinned down by need and moaning for release
or nagged by want past resolution’s power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It may well be. I do not think I would.
—Edna St. Vincent Millay (via observando)