I like my hair messy. My love wild. And my sex aggressive. But I’m still a sensitive woman, just with passion.
— Sade Harrison (via creatingaquietmind)
He belongs to everyone and yet no one. His love can be tender and inspired, yet there will always be a vaguely elusive quality to it, like a half remembered song. You can hum the melody, but the lyrics keep slipping away.
Linda Goodman’s Sun Signs