In 60-70 years, I want to be able to say: Yes, I faced many hardships in life, but divorce wasn’t one of them. You in?
And sometimes it happened, for a time. That kind of love comes and goes and is hard to remember afterwards, like pain. You would look at the man one day and you would think, I loved you, and the tense would be past, and you would be filled with a sense of wonder, because it was such an amazing and precarious and dumb thing to have done; and you would know too why your friends had been evasive about it, at the time. Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale (via helplesslyamazed)
I think I fall a little in love with people when I catch them in small moments, when they think no one’s looking at them, when they absently twirl a strand of hair between their fingers, when they lick their thumb to turn a page in a book. There’s something beautiful about a person who is lost in a thought, or adjusting their shirt, or is scratching a phantom itch on their arm, or even someone who is looking at someone else like I am looking at them.