you pierce my soul. i am half agony, half hope. tell me not that i am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. i offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight and a half years ago. dare not say that a man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. i have loved none but you. unjust i may have been, weak and resentful i have been, but never inconstant
―
persuasion - jane austen
(via scribble-scribbles)
2 years ago
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