These lights, this brightness, these clusters of human hope, of wild desire—I shall take these lights in my fingers. I shall make them bright, and whether they shine or not, it is in these fingers that they shall succeed or fail. F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Love of the Last Tycoon (via mellifluousbookshelf)

We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright. Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast (via 32flavors-)

(Source: larmoyante, via 32flavors-)