You send me all these roses.

Every time I think the last bouquet has arrived, finally, another turns up.

I’m running out of vases.

I didn’t know roses came in so many colors.

You say they’re the perfect symbols of love because they have thorns and love is pain.

I say life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.

And you don’t get it.

You say you love me, but you don’t speak my language.

You don’t even realize I’m an orchid girl.

Erin Morgenstern

Tag: flax-golden-tales



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Sting told me if I love somebody I should set them free.

I doubt Sting ever loved anyone with wings. If he did he might rethink such a stupid sentiment.

I suppose the point is to wait for your love to come back to you voluntarily.

I wonder if there’s a difference between setting something free and letting it go?

I probably did it wrong.

I should stop taking advice from my radio.

I worry that you’re lost.

I keep a heart-shaped cage unlocked for you, out on the street where it can easily be seen.

So if one day you return at least you’ll have a place to stay.

Erin Morgenstern

Tag: flax-golden-tales



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I don’t have the time to devote to circles or covens. I have to fit things in when and where I can, in stolen moments and cups of coffee.

Stirring clockwise to conjure.

Widdershins to banish.

There’s never enough time, and rarely enough caffeine, but I make do with what I have. Besides, cauldrons and pointy hats are overrated.

Sometimes I see other customers practicing. Pouring their cream and sugar with studied intent. Stirring with purpose.

I add an extra spoonful of sugar to my own coffee for them, to make all of our enchantments sweeter.

Erin Morgenstern

Tag: flax-golden-tales



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I knew that, and still it surprised me. How long I was willing to wait for something that was only a possibility.

Erin Morgenstern

Tag: the-night-circus



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Most of the passenger cars are lined with thick patterned carpets, upholstered in velvets in burgundies and violets and creams, as though they have been dipped in a sunset, hovering at twilight and holding on to the colors before they fade to midnight and stars.

Erin Morgenstern

Tag: beauty description



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Do you know why I gave my daughter permission to marry your father?”
“No,” Bailey says. It is not a topic that has ever been discussed in his presence, though Caroline once told him in secret she heard it was something of a scandal. Even almost twenty years later, his father never sets foot in his grandmother’s house, nor does she ever come out to Concord.
“Because she would have run off with him regardless,” she says. “That was what she wished. It would not have been my choice for her, but a child should not have their choices dictated for them...Follow your dreams, Bailey,” she says. “Be they Harvard or something else entirely. No matter what that father of yours says, or how loudly he might say it. He forgets that he was someone’s dream once, himself.

Erin Morgenstern

Tag: wisdom dreams



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I read for someone a week ago,” she says. “He was young, younger than I was when I met you. Tall in the way of someone who is not yet used to being tall.

Erin Morgenstern

Tag: bailey marco isobel



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