Mahmoud Darwish, From The Butterfly's Burden; "Maybe, Because Winter Is Late,"

– Audrey Hepburn

Margaret Atwood, “The Blind Assassin.”

And when everyone's asleep, I lie awake thinking what went wrong. I do not weep, yet my mind plays a melancholic song. I drift away in hopes of dreams, yet they were here to stay with their agonizing screams.

— Nikita Gill

Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Leonard Woolf, featured in The Selected Letters of Virginia Woolf

Shit, this ain't good. This aint going the way it should.

Don't like this, don't like that, but you're making my heart beat fast.

Trying to block it and ignore it but you're making me restless, dammit!

Don't be vague, tell me straight what you're hiding with those-- wait!

Gotta breath, calm my ass. This aint something I should fuss.

(i like you)

16 April, 1939 Letters to Véra by Vladimir Nabokov

Martha Gellhorn, from a letter to David Gurewitsch featured in The Selected Letters of Martha Gellhorn