"You were selfish," she told him, hands a little shaky.

"You should know it’s wrong to make someone fall in love if you don’t plan on staying and loving them back.

—  Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #97
Anybody can look at a pretty girl and see a pretty girl. An artist can look at a pretty girl and see the old woman she will become. A better artist can look at an old woman and see the pretty girl that she used to be. But a great artist—a master—and that is what Auguste Rodin was—can look at an old woman, portray her exactly as she is … and force the viewer to see the pretty girl she used to be … and more than that, he can make anyone with the sensitivity of an armadillo, or even you, see that this lovely young girl is still alive, not old and ugly at all, but simply prisoned inside her ruined body.

I believe in angels and he believes in people,
well a person. He believes in me, and that’s
all I’ve ever wanted. I’m just too fragile to
carry that title, I’m afraid of breaking again.

I couldn’t believe in myself, let alone any
other person. That’s why I convinced myself
he wasn’t real, that he was an angel, just so
I could trust him. Because angels can’t sin,
and goddamn, that’s what it took to let him in.

—  i.c. // "people lie, and angels don’t die"