Cosette and Marius saw one another again. What it meant to them we shall not attempt to say. There are things beyond description.
—Victor Hugo, Les Misérables (via perpetuallypro-solitude)
Well, let it pass, he thought; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice.
—F. Scott Fitzgerald, Magnetism (via theotherway)