"Her mother had been wrong. Love wasn’t a grand explosion. It didn’t blaze onto the scene like a comet; it crept in like a spy in the night, muffled and disguised, worming its way in, not revealing itself until it was too late to do anything about it. Love didn’t attack; it infiltrated. The poets had gotten it wrong."

— from The Orchid Affair by Lauren Willig (via moreofamore)

(Source: andinbetween-infinity, via strugglingtobeheard)