I love you, beloved flowers. When one of your leaves is withered, I watch it fall with sadness; it feels as if one of your joys was going away.
—diary entry by Caroline Normand, Rennes, December 1859 (From Secret Gardens, Satanic Mills)
In truth, you like the pain. You like it because you believe you deserve it.
—Marya Hornbacher (via rabbitinthemoon)