I was angry with myself because I still loved her, or at least I loved that dream of our togetherness. My feelings were unreasonable, irrational, and I couldn’t change them. That hurt.
― Cutting for Stone (Abraham Verghese)
I wait and ache.
― Sylvia Plath, “Three Women” (via perfect)
This love is silent.
― T.S. Eliot (via threefolds)