“Lolita is not about love, because love is always mutual; Lolita is about obsession, which is never, ever love, and Nabokov himself was so disappointed that people did not understand this and take away the right message… For how could anyone call this feeding frenzy of selfishness, devouring, and destruction ‘love’?”—In her preface to Lolita, Mary Gaitskill reflects on a review by Vanity Fair’s Gregor von Rezzori in which he calls the novel: “The only convincing love story of the century” (via faulknerandfieldnotes)
“Missing you is the strangest experience I have ever had. Most of the time, I can go through the motions of my everyday with only minimal intrusion from the lack of your physical presence. But then I am chopping peppers in the kitchen and I am crushed by the waves of sadness that swell in the absence of your hand from my lower back.
I can still feel the outline of your shoulder blades on my fingertips, and the softness of your lips as they find my neck. No matter where I am physically, I am always back in North Carolina, tangled up with you.”—twentyisthenewblack