I'm reading a book for my world literature class, and this part was so beautiful and terribly lovely and I cannot stop thinking about it for I too, once felt this way.
"Being with Chacko made Margaret feel as though her soul had escaped from the narrow confines of her island country into the vast, extravagant spaces of his. He made her feel as though the world belonged to them-- as though it lay before them like an opened frog on a dissecting table, begging to be examined.
In the year she knew him, before they were married, she discovered a little magic in herself, and for a while felt like a blithe genie released from her lamp. She was perhaps too young to realize that what she assumed was her love for Chacko was actually a tentative, timorous acceptance of herself."
I hope to write this well some day.
