“We were a short lived anthology of things no one else could read.”

We don’t belong to anyone. Half the time we don’t even belong to ourselves.

He says he wants to take me to Paris – but I see Amsterdam in his eyes.

Boys with skeletons in their closets – they make skeletons out of girls.

Lets admit it: we all play the game of hide and seek fairly well.

Please – stop living in boxes where you can’t breathe.

I want your madness, only if you promise to be mad about me.

I love things that smell like fire and taste like fumes: you.

We both chased our dreams and our dreams chased us. Yet we forgot to chase each other.

He wears a smile as bright as the heaven he fell from.

He’s my red adrenaline sky, but I just prayer he never paints me blue.

Its always the quiet ones who love the loudest.

I turned us into poetry because this is how we remain.

You give me butterflies in a stomach full of moths.

She’s a architect – building castle out things that nearly destroyed her.

Darling, it’s okay to fall again; these bones of yours they already know how to mend.

Pride – it screams a lot louder than love sometimes.

No book ever ends, when it’s full of your friends.

Books must be read as deliberately and reservedly as they were written.

The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you’ll go.

My books are water; those of the great geniuses is wine. Everybody drinks water.

Whether I’m at the office, at home, or on the road, I always have a stack of books I’m looking forward to reading.

The reader, the booklover, must meet his own needs without paying too much attention to what his neighbors say those needs should be.

I shall never be ashamed of citing a bad author if the line is good.

Nature and Books belong to the eyes that see them.