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Isabella. A ninetysomething year old woman stuck in a teenager's body. Loves middle-aged male celebrities far more than is appropriate. Has a list of platonic girlcrushes that grows daily. Aims to be a mix of Lady Mary Crawley, Joan Holloway, and Liz Lemon. Is a sucker for pretty graphics and men who wear glasses. Loves old Hollywood, attractive celebrities, film, history and cultural history, anthropology, classic literature, costume design, obscenely long period dramas, and Harry Potter. Obsesses over Downton Abbey more than anyone in their right mind should. great gatsbies
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missavagardner:

Richard, I tried to stay away. I thought I would never see you again, that you were out of my life. The day you left Paris, if you knew what I went through. If you knew how much I loved you, how much I still love you.

Rick: We’ll always have Paris. We didn’t have, we, we lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night. 
Ilsa: When I said I would never leave you. 
Rick: And you never will. But I’ve got a job to do, too. Where I’m going, you can’t follow. What I’ve got to do, you can’t be any part of. Ilsa, I’m no good at being noble, but it doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you’ll understand that.