“One day,” she said, “I’ll catch dreams like butterflies.” “And then what?” he asked. “Then I’ll put them between the pages of big, fat books and press them until they’re words.” “Suppose there’s someone who never dreams of anything but you?” “Maybe then we’re both words in a book. Two names among all the others.”
“All you do is talk, talk, talk. When are you going to start listening?!”
— TED’s wife (via pizzaforpresident)
