“He was all dangerous eyes and beautiful lies, but I ached. for him to lie to me some more.”

Dance with me. Bring my demons to their knees.

We were electric together, you and me; we turned hurting each other into a goddamned symphony.

You can fan the flames with hate or stroke the fire with love, either way, it’s going to burn.

I drink to the ones who can sit with their souls and not wish for sleep and the nightmares it brings.

The tide has pulled the storm from my soul again. But in all that is right or wrong and pure, there is you, and your stunning ability to blur the lines and just be.

I breathe him in so deep that when he is gone I exhale and taste him again.

I will not force a pretty smile upon my face to please eyes that no longer see me.

Moon child with your galaxy heart, cool your heels and stay awhile.

He was exactly like hitting a red light during a killer streak of green.

Be bold, child. You are rare and you are brazen light.

She is love, and a little fucking unstoppable.

And now I wander. Forever searching for the pieces of me I should have never given away.

Every now and then I roam the catacombs in my head and attempt to resurrect you, and make you shiny again.

Be patient with me, dear heart. The art of loving is a peculiar business when one has spent an eternity hating themselves.

She tasted like wildflowers; crushed, wet wild flowers carried in sticky palms through farmers’ fields, just before dawn.

I promised to touch your soul. I never said it would be painless.

Maybe the most perfect words I’ve ever heard, beauty and sadness, are these three. Not, I love you. But, Let it be.

Every day I discover more and more beautiful things. It’s enough to drive one mad. I have such a desire to do everything, my head is bursting with it.

Pride is the oldest and most common of sins. Humility is the rarest and most beautiful of graces.

The stars seemed near enough to touch and never before have i seen so many. i always believed the lure of flying is the lure of beauty, but i was sure of it that night.

Every human is an artist. The dream of your life is to make beautiful art.

My beautiful proof lies all in ruins.

Belladonna, n.: In Italian a beautiful lady; in English a deadly poison. A striking example of the essential identity of the two tongues.

Through every trial we grow. All suffering we experience has a meaning. Though it seems very cruel, it is like the fire that smelts the iron ore: the steel that emerges from that furnace is beautifully strong, useful for many purposes.