“I used every color on my palette to bring you back to life. Now you paint the most beautiful rainbows in someone else’s skies.”

I dream about the body I wish I had and all the ways I could be touched in it.

If this love is going to break me, at least make my suffering sweet. I want to know what you taste like in sweltering summer heat.

If there’s still hope for the hopeless, there must be hope for us.

I imagine myself cold as ice falling into your open arms. Everyone says it’s beautiful where I am but I’d rather be where you are.

I write poetry in my sleep because you only visit me in my dreams.

Play me a symphony of love with your tongue. It doesn’t have to be romantic.

I watch in silence as day turns to dusk as our love turns to dust.

Desperate for answers, I go searching in the stars. I ask them: on a scale of one to catastrophe, how beautiful would they say we are?

Your lips land on mine like a delicate prayer but I can still taste my mistakes years later.

I am still learning to love all the parts of me you kept hidden.

Static heart. Work of heart. Purify me with a dirty tongue.

Understand my soul – it’s the only love language I care for you to know.

I set sail eagerly and hungrily on the sea of love, to which there is no end in sight – only bright beginnings.

You are a waterfall of a woman. It’s no wonder why you’re always ready to spill.

He looks at me as if I’m the flame and he’s the sea; he’d turn his tide for a chance to burn with me.

Rain over me. I’ll still set like the sun for you.

The true way to live is to enjoy every moment as it passes, and surely it is in the everyday things around us that the beauty of life lies.

It’s so freeing, it’s beautiful in a way, to have a great failure, there’s nowhere to go but up.

All of the pain she had endured only makes her beauty shine through more.

I couldn’t care less how much money a person has, or what their job title is. Show me a person who seeks out the beauty in a wreckage; who’ll take the remnants of their troubles and stitch a sail from the tatters.

A song should have all the color and beauty of every rose.

We’re all like detectives. We want to figure things out. Life, you know, we want to figure out life, and we want to figure out what’s going on, so it’s beautiful. It’s beautiful that people are thinking.

Not going to give casual worship to a God of extravagant beauty and grace!

The more unknowable the mystery, the more beautiful it is.