“I don’t know about you, but I intend on writing a strongly worded letter to the White Star Line about all of this. You’re gonna go on, and make lots of babies, and watch them grow. You’re gonna die an old lady, warm in her bed. Not here, not this night. Do you understand me? Winning that ticket, Rose, was the best thing that ever happened to me… it brought me to you. And I’m thankful for that, Rose. I’m thankful. You must do me this honor, Rose. Promise me you’ll survive. That you won’t give up, no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless. Promise me now, Rose, and never let go of that promise.”
(Source: damonsalvatorie, via jaimelannister)
Thought via Path
Youth is the gift of nature, but age is a work of art.
Stanislaw Lec – Read on Path.
NIGHTNIGHT by DEDDY
