Frances

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Slow Horses
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The Fellowship of...
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Alice Oseman
“I have been going out with Nick Nelson since I was fourteen. He likes rugby and Formula I, animals (especially dogs), the Marvel universe, the sound felt-tips make on paper, rain, drawing on shoes, Disneyland and minimalism. He also likes me.”
Alice Oseman, Nick and Charlie

Virginia Woolf
“Dearest, I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don't think two people could have been happier 'til this terrible disease came. I can't fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that – everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer. I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been. V.”
Virginia Woolf

Taylor Jenkins Reid
“People think that intimacy is about sex. But intimacy is about truth. When you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can show yourself to them, when you stand in front of them bare and their response is 'you're safe with me'- that's intimacy.”
Taylor Jenkins Reid, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

“In early 1998 the letters stopped, and Grant knew. Sometimes he thought he'd felt it, deep inside, like a thread being cut. Remus was dead”
MsKingBean89, All The Young Dudes

Sylvia Plath
“The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence. I knew perfectly well the cars were making noise, and the people in them and behind the lit windows of the buildings were making a noise, and the river was making a noise, but I couldn't hear a thing. The city hung in my window, flat as a poster, glittering and blinking, but it might just as well not have been there at all, for all the good it did me.”
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

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Cintia
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