No man has ever looked at me the way you do. Its not lust. Its not love either. Its beyond human experience, something no one has ever witnessed, so it lacks a name. Its something higher than simple love.
you told me you wanted to stop because you were hurting me. but it's been four months, and i'm still crying, hurting, barely breathing.
π¦π±βπ° π«π¬π± π¦πͺππ¬π°π°π¦ππ©π’ π±π¬ ππ’ π°ππ±π¦π°π£π¦π’π‘
when kafka said βyou wouldnβt believe the kind of person I could become if you wanted itβ and when brontΓ« said βif you ever looked at me with what I know is in you, I would be your slaveβ and when Sartre said βif Iβve got to suffer it may as well be at your handsβ
Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Leonard Woolf, featured in The Selected Letters of Virginia Woolf
2 April, 1937 Letters to VΓ©ra by Vladimir Nabokov
the archive of almosts.
Sylvia Plath, aged 30, in a letter to her mother, 6 months after discovering her husband's infidelity, and their subsequent separation (dated Wednesday, 16 January 1963)
[Ted Hughes (aged 32) - her husband, who was having an affair with Assia Wevill (aged 35), a married woman who rented their London flat at Chalcot Square; Sylvia moved with their children (a 2-year-old daughter & an 11-month-old son) from Court Green in Devon, to 23 Fitzroy Road in London, at a rented flat, formerly the residence of W. B. Yeats]