Only two things are real to me: my love and my death. In between them, I merely exist as a scatter of senses.


The Diaries of Sylvia Townsend Warner (1995)


Only two things are real to me: my love and my death. In between them, I merely exist as a scatter of senses.

Only two things are real to me: my love and my death. In between them, I merely exist as a scatter of senses.

Only two things are real to me: my love and my death. In between them, I merely exist as a scatter of senses.

Only two things are real to me: my love and my death. In between them, I merely exist as a scatter of senses.