
There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams—not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.
catherinebronte liked this
warmbloodxtoxic reblogged this from iamnevertheone
amna-b reblogged this from tara-58
nerdyendevours reblogged this from heartofdicaprio
nerdyendevours liked this
thirtydreams reblogged this from glassmenagerie
thirtydreams liked this
rebelsandpoets reblogged this from almightyalicia
darkstoriesofthenorth reblogged this from hhughdancy