Candice : INFP. Ravenclaw. Parisian. Blogger. Bookworm. Nerdfighter. ♕ Engaged to her soulmate. Bookworm. Webdesigner & Photographer. Feels old, but not very wise.

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MY BOOK TUMBLR

And to that I hold. I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone.

If someone could retain in his memory everything he had experienced, if he could at any time call up any fragment of his past, he would be nothing like human beings: neither his loves nor his friendships nor his angers nor his capacity to forgive or avenge would resemble ours.

Milan Kundera 

La Valse Aux Adieux

Puis ils s’étendirent côte à côte dans le grand lit. Il la regardait. Elle était allongée sur le dos, la tête enfoncée dans l’oreiller, le menton légèrement levé et les yeux fixés au plafond, et, dans cette extrême tension de son corps […], il vit soudain, en un seul instant, toute son essence. Oui, il lui arrivait parfois (c’était des moments miraculeux) de saisir soudain, dans un seul de ses gestes ou de ses mouvements, toute l’histoire de son corps et de son âme. C’étaient des instants de clairvoyance absolue mais aussi d’émotions absolue ; car cette femme l’avait aimé quand il n’était encore rien, elle avait été prête à tout sacrifier pour lui, elle comprenait en aveugle toutes ses pensées […], elle était pour lui le plus proche de tous les êtres humains… Puis il imagina que ce corps adorable, ce visage adorable étaient morts, et il se dit qu’il ne pourrait pas lui survivre un seul jour. Il savait qu’il était capable de la protéger jusqu’à son dernier souffle, qu’il était capable de donner sa vie pour elle. Mais cette sensation d’amour étouffant n’était qu’une faible lueur éphémère, parce que son esprit était occupé tout entier par l’angoisse et l’effroi. Il était étendu à côtés de Kamila, il savait qu’il l’aimait infiniment, mais il était mentalement absent. Il lui caressait le visage, comme s’il la caressait d’une distance incommensurable de plusieurs centaines de kilomètres.

In bed with Milan Kundera. I’ve read this book a billion times, I can’t help it, je l’adore.

Bonne nuit my darlings.  

She had an overwhelming desire to tell him, like the most banal of women. Don’t let me go, hold me tight, make me your plaything, your slave, be strong! But they were words she could not say.

The only thing she said when he released her from his embrace was, “You don’t know how happy I am to be with you.” That was the most her reserved nature allowed her to express.

Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

"You can’t measure the mutual affection of two human beings by the number of words they exchange."

Milan Kundera

We all need someone to look at us. we can be divided into four categories according to the kind of look we wish to live under. the first category longs for the look of an infinite number of anonymous eyes, in other words, for the look of the public. the second category is made up of people who have a vital need to be looked at by many known eyes. they are the tireless hosts of cocktail parties and dinners. they are happier than the people in the first category, who, when they lose their public, have the feeling that the lights have gone out in the room of their lives. this happens to nearly all of them sooner or later. people in the second category, on the other hand, can always come up with the eyes they need. then there is the third category, the category of people who need to be constantly before the eyes of the person they love. their situation is as dangerous as the situation of people in the first category. one day the eyes of their beloved will close, and the room will go dark. and finally there is the fourth category, the rarest, the category of people who live in the imaginary eyes of those who are not present. they are the dreamers.

Milan Kundera (via atomos)
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