The good thing about unrequited love is that it makes for exceptional literature.

He knew that I love you also means I love you in a way that no one loves you, or has loved you, or will love you, and also, I love you in a way that I love no one else, and never have loved anyone else, and never will love anyone else.

Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything is Illuminated

Every one interprets everything in terms of his own experience. If you say anything which does not touch a precisely similar spot in another man’s brain, he either misunderstands you, or doesn’t understand you at all.

Aleister Crowley, Diary of a Drug Fiend

I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him.

Jane Eyre

One of the all-time most romantic, and usually overlooked, lines in literature. 

(via itscandidlycara)

(via letitunfold)

Some no longer even know what home means. They reinvent the concept with what they’ve got, the way we reinvent love with what’s left of it each time.

André Aciman, Shadow Cities

Sorry about the bony elbows, sorry we
lived here, sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell
and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud.
Especially that, but I should have known.
You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together
to make a creature that will do what I say
or love me back.

Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out by Richard Siken

(via suspendedspirits)

Over the great bridge, with the sunlight through the girders making a constant flicker upon the moving cars, with the city rising up across the river in white heaps and sugar lumps all built with a wish out of non-olfactory money. The city seen from the Queensboro Bridge is always the city seen for the first time, in its first wild promise of all the mystery and the beauty in the world.

F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Allow me to introduce you to my new best friend.

He smiled understandingly-much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced—or seemed to face—the whole external world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself.

F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

A favorite of mine.