The city was always my garden, the people there like flowers, the traffic like a river, the lights of the buildings shining as if they were a hundred white tears.
—Alice Hoffman, Green Heart (via larmoyante)
Maybe I was destined to forever fall in love with people I couldn’t have. Maybe there’s a whole assortment of impossible people waiting for me to find them. Waiting to make me feel the same impossibility over and over again.
— Carol Rifka Brunt, Tell the Wolves I’m Home (via larmoyante)