Our life is composed greatly from dreams, from the unconscious, and they must be brought into connection with action. They must be woven together. – Anais Nin
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we dont know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings. – Anais Nin
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