From What We See When We Read by Peter Mendelsund.
Mists of tenderness enfolded mountains of longing.
— From Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov.
It was such rapture that it was pain. She adored him.
— From The Painted Veil by W. Somerset Maugham.
From the December 11th poem, from Eighteen Days without You, Anne Sexton.
From Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates.
Oh, she had changed, there was no doubt about it. People did change, and a change could be a bloom as well as a withering, couldn’t it? Because that was what it seemed to be: a final bloom, a long-delayed emergence into womanliness.
— From Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates.