Pubertal heart Young soul

We are made of same material of which dreams are woven! Love has no desire but to fulfill itself. To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving.

I do not miss childhood, but I miss the way I took pleasure in small things, even as greater things crumbled. I could not control the world I was in, could not walk away from things or people or moments that hurt, but I took joy in the things that made me happy.

- Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane  (via fakeplastictrees1)

(via fakeplastictrees1)

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