It was like the ardor of a lover; it embarrassed me; it was hateful and yet over-powering; and with gloating eyes she drew me to her, and her hot lips traveled along my cheek in kisses; and she would whisper, almost in sobs, “You are mine, you shall be mine, you and I are one for ever.”

Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, Carmilla

Are you running from man's delusion
Majestic madness and your exclusion
To where the lamb lies down with the lion?

Joyce Moreno, Run, Wolf Warrior, Run

Maybe if he went back. Maybe the answer lay in the past, in some obscure crevice of memory. Go back, then, he told his mind, go back.
It tore his heart out to go back.

Richard Matheson, I Am Legend

"I hated you so much," she said softly.

James Reaney, The Box Social & Other Stories

The past is never dead. It's not even past. All of us labor in webs spun long before we were born, webs of heredity and environment, of desire and consequence, of history and eternity. Haunted by wrong turns and roads not taken, we pursue images perceived as new but whose providence dates to the dim dramas of childhood, which are themselves but ripples of consequence echoing down the generations. The quotidian demands of life distract from this resonance of images and events, but some of us feel it always.

William Faulkner

My expectations...
My loneliness...
My fear...

For you, my child...
I will put them aside.

Toriel, Undertale