We’d hoped vaguely to fall in love but hadn’t worried much about it, because we’d thought we had all the time in the world. Love had seemed so final and so dull; love was what ruined our parents. Love had delivered them to a life of mortgage payments and household repairs; to unglamorous jobs and the fluorescent aisles of a supermarket at two in the afternoon. We’d hoped for love of a different kind, love that knew and forgave our human frailty but did not miniaturize our grander ideas of ourselves. It sounded possible. If we didn’t rush or grab, if we didn’t panic, a love both challenging and nurturing might appear. If the person was imaginable, then the person could exist.

My response to every other email

I read 33 books in 2012, and my goal was 30. Upped it to 34 for 2013.

See also: Goodreads is the best ever.

(via )

Shudder.

Post-holidays bluesville.

(via bossypants)

Neil Gaiman’s New Year’s Wish 2013

GPOY

All you need are some apples, a pie shell, and a universe.

Now near the end of the middle stretch of road
What have I learned? Some earthly wiles. An art.
That often I cannot tell good fortune from bad,
That once had seemed so easy to tell apart.

(via 19miracles)