"You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person died for no reason."
— Ernest Hemingway,
A Moveable Feast (via
larmoyante)
"Being with you and not being with you is the only way I have to measure time."
"I drank coffee and read old books and waited for the year to end."
— Richard Brautigan,
Trout Fishing In America (via
larmoyante)
