the most perfect was flawed || "'The world,' she thought, 'is certainly full of beautiful things, if only I could come across them.'" ||
"Farewells can be shattering, but returns are surely worse. Solid flesh can never live up to the bright shadow cast by its absence. Time and distance blur the edges; then suddenly the beloved has arrived, and it’s noon with its merciless light, and every spot and pore and wrinkle and bristle stands clear.”
— Margaret Atwood, from The Blind Assassin (via amarling)
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