“I woke to a violent clap of thunder. It was raining, hailing, the shutters flashed pale yellow with the lightning. I heard the bells ringing in the hotel—the servants in felt slippers running along the corridors. Bang! went the thunder, rolling and tossing among the hills. The air was so electric that one’s hands and feet sang. Finally I got up, put on my mackintosh and opened the shutters. I felt sure that I’d be struck, especially as my room, being at the corner for the full force of the storm. It was a wonderful sight. I shall never forget the dignity of the sea. It drew back from the land a long way. There were no waves, only a fold or two where it touched the shore—and it looked as cold as a stone. Above the coast the sky was bright silver and above that a bright fantastic green. As I opened the window I smelled the sharp smell of the wet blue-gum trees. Oh, it was exciting—it was lovely and all the while the hail springing against the window pane and the low thunder and the fluttering light.”—Katherine Mansfield, December 18, 1915 (via katherine-mansfield)
You can’t eat, you can’t sleep, you get butterflies in her(his) presence, your palms sweat. You feel like a total dork and it feels great. Newflash for you: This isn’t love. It’s somebody else besides your mother thinking you are cool. And it’s an amazing feeling. Don’t get me wrong. I dig it just as much as you do. But don’t confuse the feeling with love. Love doesn’t feel all mushy. Love isn’t sweaty palms and sleepless nights. Love is a decision you make to care for someone no matter how you feel. If they are disfigured in an accident or throwing up for hours on end, you will still love them.
“When we were children, we used to think that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability… To be alive is to be vulnerable.”—Madeleine L’Engle (via myquotelibrary)