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Quote by Nenia Campbell

“Love is cruel, Nadine,” he said, in that soft, vicious voice. “Possessive. Unforgiving. If you open your heart to it, you’ll get it ripped out. I find it rather tragic that you romantics lay yourselves down in these honeyed traps, only to get eaten alive by what you claim to want the most.”

Quote by Nenia Campbell

Work

Raise the Blood

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Nenia Campbell

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“First Love I ne’er was struck before that hour With love so sudden and so sweet, Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower And stole my heart away complete. My face turned pale as deadly pale, My legs refused to walk away, And when she looked, what could I ail? My life and all seemed turned to clay. And then my blood rushed to my face And took my eyesight quite away, The trees and bushes round the place Seemed midnight at noonday. I could not see a single thing, Words from my eyes did start— They spoke as chords do from the string, And blood burnt round my heart. Are flowers the winter’s choice? Is love’s bed always snow? She seemed to hear my silent voice, Not love's appeals to know. I never saw so sweet a face As that I stood before. My heart has left its dwelling-place And can return no more.”

“I could have the world’s best painter try to recreate what I’m looking at right now,” he began, those soulless eyes looking across my face, unbothered by whatever I had to say, “and he could never truly capture you as beautiful as you are right now, my little mouse.”

“After this happened, I was obsessed with this incident. I talked about it all the time while rolling my eyes and thinking about how much she sucked. Finally, I did this so much that Gary pointed out I was obsessing over her so much that I was going to make her successful. I took this advice seriously, and decided then that I don't want to spend time thinking about things that I don't want to have a place in my life. You have to kick people out of your head as forcefully as you'd kick someone out of your house if you didn't want them to be there.”

“Sitting in my room, I need but to think of you, to imagine to myself the rustle of your dress, and at once I fall almost to biting my hands. Why should you be angry with me? Because I call myself your slave? Revel, I pray you, in my slavery--revel in it. Do you know that sometimes I could kill you?--not because I do not love you, or am jealous of you, but, because I feel as though I could simply devour you... You are laughing!”