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"Still Ill" (The Smiths cover) [Spanish Prisoners]

We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.

Anaïs Nin (via ruineshumaines)

In matters of love, one must not fear, as in ordinary life, merely the future, but even the past, which often does not materialize for us until the future. This is true not only of the past that we learn after the fact, but also of the past that we have long preserved in our minds and that we suddenly learn how to interpret.

Marcel Proust 

(via proustitute)