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“She thinks herself a fool for believing she could have any impact on such things. That anything she ever did mattered at all.”
Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus p. 366 (via booknation)
“Watch,” he whispers in her ear. The striped canvas sides of the tent stiffen, the soft surface hardening as the fabric changes to paper. Words appear over the walls, typeset letters overlapping handwritten text. Celia can make out snatches of Shakespearean sonnets and fragments of hymns to Greek goddesses as the poetry fills the tent. It covers the walls and the ceiling and spreads out over the floor. And then the tent begins to open, the paper folding and tearing. The black stripes stretch out into empty space as their white counterparts brighten, reaching upward and breaking apart into branches. “Do you like it?” Marco asks, once the movement settles and they stand within a darkened forest of softly glowing, poem-covered trees.”
The Night Circus
Erin Morgenstern(via bookgirl91)
“I couldn’t tell the difference between what was real and what I wanted to be real. I thought this was going to be temporary, even when it kept dragging on and on. But it’s not. It never was. I was the one who was temporary.”
Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus p. 446 (via booknation)