I believe in mess, tears, pain, self-abasement, loss of self-respect, nakedness. Not caring doesn’t seem much different from not loving.

If I had another life, I would've spent it to make you mine.

Richard, I am not worth anyone’s heartache.’  ‘I know that,’ Richard said. ‘But she does not.’  ‘She will have to learn,’ Lymond said.

[She] looked as if her nerves were quivering with the expectation that something would be thrown at her. But she never had anything worse than words to dread.

Written By George Eliot

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