“ Grief squeezed at her eggshell heart like it might break into a thousand pieces, its contents running like broken promises into the hollow places his love used to fill. How could she know this pain would end? That love, unlike matter or energy, was in endless supply in the universe… A germ which grows from nothingness which cannot be eradicated, even from the darkest of hearts. If she had known this - and who could say she would believe it? - She would not have chanced to remain at his sad grave until such an hour so that she might not have to learn the second truth before the first: that to have love was to carry a vessel that could be lost or stolen. Or worse, spilled blood-red on the ground. And that love was not immutable and could become hate as day becomes night. As life becomes death.
— The X Files 6x18 ‘Milagro’ (via circumvented)
(via fuckyeahsexualtension)
