Hallelujah to the Hoot
My Nabokov Obsession
Love is never any better than the lover. Wicked people love wickedly, violent people love violently, weak people love weakly, stupid people love stupidly, but the love of a free man is never safe. There is no gift for the beloved. The lover alone possesses his gift of love. The loved one is shorn, neutralized, frozen in the glare of the lover’s inward eye.
The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison (via thechocolatebrigade)
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