oheyitsmonica
You can never really go back to the same waters. Not only are you no longer the same, but neither are the waters you left. The current has changed. The elements of nature have affected the stream. When you return, although it appears the same, it really is a different river and you are a different person. Therefore, you cannot cross the same river twice.
"Same River Twice" by Alice Walker (via blessv)
quoted-books
Which is why I am not here to tell you tomorrow will be a new day. That the sun will go on shining. Or there are plenty of fish in the sea. What I will tell you is this; it’s okay to be hurting as much as you are. What you are feeling is not only completely valid but necessary—because it makes you so much more human. And though I can’t promise it will get better any time soon, I can tell you that it will—eventually. For now, all you can do is take your time. Take all the time you need.
Lang Leav, Lullabies (via quoted-books)
Why should we set these hearts of ours above
     The rest, and cramp them in possession’s clutch?
Poor things, we gasp and strain to capture love,
     And in our hands, it powders at our touch. 
We turn the fragrant pages of the past,
     Mournful with scent of passion’s faded flow’rs,
On every one we read, “Love cannot last”–
     So how could ours?

It is the quest that thrills, and not the gain,
     The mad pursuit, and not the cornering:
Love caught is but a drop of April rain,
     But bloom upon the moth’s translucent wing.
Why should you dare to hope that you and I,
     Could make love’s fitful flash a lasting flame?
Still, if you think it’s only fair to try–
     Well, I am game.

Why should we set these hearts of ours above
The rest, and cramp them in possession’s clutch?
Poor things, we gasp and strain to capture love,
And in our hands, it powders at our touch.
We turn the fragrant pages of the past,
Mournful with scent of passion’s faded flow’rs,
On every one we read, “Love cannot last”–
So how could ours?

It is the quest that thrills, and not the gain,
The mad pursuit, and not the cornering:
Love caught is but a drop of April rain,
But bloom upon the moth’s translucent wing.
Why should you dare to hope that you and I,
Could make love’s fitful flash a lasting flame?
Still, if you think it’s only fair to try–
Well, I am game.