“God! How much I need tenderness from people, and gentleness, the possibility of liking and being liked with real warmth. […]”— Iris Murdoch, from a letter to David Hicks written c. February 1946
(via nicola-blank)
Because the people who love us scratch us. We have to let others be free to show us their love however they choose, however they know, however they can. And what is love, anyway? It’s clawmarks, scratches, scars, traces someone leaves inside of you.