“Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden, and softly, and exclaiming their dearness, fill your arms with the white and pink flowers, with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling, their eagerness to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are nothing forever?”
“You have always been content to destroy yourself,
so others would never have the chance.
After all, it is far easier to burn a house down,
than to grow comfortable living in it.”
— your heart is an arsonist, building bridges so you have something to burn | m.a.w (via dvoyd)
