
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings. - Anais Nin
luddite lost. dreamer on park. writer hibernating.
2 comments:
LIKE!
I realize I keep quoting her but I've never read any of her stuff!
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