Over under

Nora Roberts does not only glaze my eyes with mush. Over the years, she also introduced me to black and white movies, ballet, archeology, Ireland, poets, friendships that felt like family, everything Irish, Celtic lore, poems, adventure, mystery, twists, betrayal, cold murder, insanity, what fanaticism does to some people, training dogs, tending to gardens and love that lasts for longer than you expect because some people are willing to hold on and work at it every day of their lives.
 
I finally finished Dance of The Gods yesterday morning and I was browsing/fast reading/skipping/treating myself to snippets/scanning through Valley of Silence before I read it in detail. I came across a few lines from Yeats and it terribly moved me. And I wondered. If I would ever feel so much for someone.
 
 
 
 
 
He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven
 
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
 
 
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