I love your silences, they are like mine. You are the only being before whom I am not distressed by my own silences. You have a vehement silence, one feels it is charged with essences, it is a strangely alive silence, like a trap open over a well, from which one can hear the secret murmur of the earth itself.

Anaïs Nin, Under a Glass Bell

(via melancholynotes)

(via journalofanobody)

Source: growing-orbits

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