"Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold."
"A southern moon is a sodden moon, and sultry. When it swamps the fields and the rustling sandy roads and the sticky honeysuckle hedges in its sweet stagnation, your fight to hold on to reality is like a protestation against a first waft of ether."
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Source: Zelda Fitzgerald (2013). “Save Me the Waltz: A Novel”, p.39, Simon and Schuster
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