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Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
Emily Brontë (via i-nimit-able)
He felt now that he was not simply close to her, but that he did not know where he ended and she began.
Leo Tolstoy (via i-nimit-able)
Sure she was amazing to look at, but there was something more. There was a sadness there, mixed with wisdom, and pained humor. Whatever it was, I felt like I could see right down to the moths struggling on their backs in the base of her silver, shimmering soul.
Nic Sheff (via trappedinawebb)