“Sometimes ideas just come to me. Other times I have to sweat and almost bleed to make ideas come. It’s a mysterious process, but I hope I never find out exactly how it works.”

Secretly we’re all a little more absurd than we make ourselves out to be.

I find that discussing an idea out loud is often the way to kill it stone dead.

It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.

I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for.

If you don’t like to read, you haven’t found the right book.

Talent and intelligence never yet inoculated anyone against the caprice of the fates.

In the end, it mattered not that you could not close your mind. It was your heart that saved you.

I think it’s the books that you read when you’re young that live with you forever.

I definitely know that love is the most powerful thing of all.

Always have a vivid imagination, for you never know when you might need it.

It was strange how your brain could know what your heart refused to accept.

Destiny is a name often given in retrospect to choices that had dramatic consequences.

Death comes for us all in the end.

It is our choices, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.

No man or woman alive, magical or not, has ever escaped some form of injury, whether physical, mental, or emotional. To hurt is as human as to breathe.

Print will never die. There’s no substitute for the feel of an actual book.

You hurt and I bleed. What a curse to feel so deeply.

You have always been able to manipulate my heart in such a way that even though I’m bleeding, I offer you band aids that are holding me together.

She plucked a feather from her magnificent wings and dipped it in ink. She wrote poems bled from her scars guided straight from the depths of her heart.

She bleeds the life of golden rose from her lips whenever she kisses.

My soul bleeds poetry, dipped in blue scented lies.

Mold me into poetry. Make me flow beautifully and deep. Write me into rhythmic verses with silent words that make me weep. Paint me with emotions like a bleeding sunset on a shore.

Every heart hides, wounds that never bleed.

Life is a velvet crowbar hitting you over the head, youre bleeding syrup amour, bleeding to death.