"You know, it always has to do with the eyes. It always has to do with the inexplicable softness of the gaze; the natural warmth of it, the unfathomable clarity one’s eyes might sustain or not. I used to love the way you looked at me: you made me feel like you weren’t simply struggling to understand my ways, in a way you already understood without quite knowing. In a way, you weren’t struggling or trying in the least. You quietly observed without judging, you listened deeply, undisturbingly, absolutely. You were authentically perceptive; I really liked that. I always thought we did share something in common which could beautifully transgress all further complexities: We knew how to look one another in the very core and get it right. And we did get it right. And a certain tenderness was always floating around during each exchange of glances. It was the kind of tenderness which perhaps whispered not merely "I see right through you" but also "I feel you. Right there. I feel your thoughts. I sense your mind. I accept whatever follows"; a strange build up of exciting and immediate intimacy. Yes, it’s always been about the eyes. Your eyes, mine…it’s always, always the eyes."
- All These Things You Wish You’d Say (via letters-to-nobody)
"I began to realize how important it was to be an enthusiast in life. He taught me that if you are interested in something, no matter what it is, go at it at full speed ahead. Embrace it with both arms, hug it, love it and above all become passionate about it. Lukewarm is no good. Hot is no good either. White hot and passionate is the only thing to be"
- Roald Dahl, My Uncle Oswald (via pale-afternoon)