“
Nevertheless she sometimes thought that they were the finest days of her life, those ‘honeymoon days’ as people call them… When the sun sinks down to rest, you breathe, beside the margin of a bay, the fragrant odours of the lemon-trees; and then, by night, on the terrace, alone with each other, with fingers intertwined, you gaze at the stars and make plans for the future. It seemed to her that there were certain places on the earth which naturally brought forth happiness, as though it were a plant native to the soil, which could not thrive elsewhere.
— Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary (via nadiarahali) (via dreaminginthedeepsouth)
Reblogged from Wait - what ?
