The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim Because it was grassy and wanted wear, Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay...
Amei até virar loucura. Aquela que é chamada loucura, para mim, é a única...
She was beautiful, but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful:...– ― Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (via aberzombie-and-witch)