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Quote by Dominic Riccitello

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Dominic Riccitello

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“It feels like this,” he says, his fingers tracing slow circles against my skin. “Like waking up and knowing you’re safe. Like wanting to give someone everything, even if they don’t know how to take it yet.” He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as if searching for the right words. “Love is… chaos and calm at the same time. It’s the way your heart races when you see someone, but also how it slows when they’re close, like they’re the only thing keeping you grounded.” His voice softens as he looks down at me. “It’s knowing you’d walk through hell just to see them smile. That their happiness means more than your own, but somehow, their happiness is your own. It’s wanting to protect them from everything, even when you know they can protect themselves.” He shifts, his hand brushing a strand of hair from my face. “It’s not perfect. It’s messy and terrifying because it means giving someone the power to hurt you. Like handing them a knife and saying, ‘here, please don’t stab me.’ But you do it anyway because not having them is even worse.” I swallow hard, my chest tight as his words settle over me. His hand moves to cup my cheek, his thumb grazing over my skin. “And for me, love is you, Carina. It’s every breath you take, every time you look at me like I’m more than I think I am. It’s knowing that even if you don’t say it back, I’d still mean it, because you’re worth every risk.”

LoveTrue LoveWhat Is Love Spell
Book:The Colour Of Revenge: A Dark Serial Killer Romance
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“At breakfast, and while they were packing the few remaining articles, he showed his weariness from the night's effort so unmistakably that Tess was on the point of revealing all that had happened; but the reflection that it would anger him, grieve him, stultify him, to know that he had instinctively manifested a fondness for her of which his common sense did not approve, that his inclination had comrpromised his dignity when reason slept, again deterred her. It was too much like laughing at a man when sober for his erratic deeds during intoxication. It just crossed her mind, too, that he might have a faint recollection of his tender vagary and was disinclined to allude to it from a conviction that she would take amatory advantage of the opportunity it gave her of appealing to him anew not to go. ...When Tess had passed over the crest of the hill he turned to go his own way, and hardly knew that he loved her still.”

ConsciousnessTrue LoveUnconsciousness
Book:Tess of the D'urbervilles
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