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“The white light splutters and pours. Carnations; chrysanthemums. Ivy in dark gardens. Wherever I go, I see you, turning the corner, you, you, you. I hasten, I follow. This, I fancy, must be the sea. Grey is the landscape; dim as ashes; the water murmurs and moves. If I fall on my knees, if I go through the ritual, the ancient antics, it’s you I adore; if I open my arms, it’s you I embrace, you I draw to me—”
- Virginia Woolf, from Complete Works; “An Unwritten Novel,” (via nocturnalwaltzes)
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