“Night time thoughts lead nowhere but into melancholy.”

Her afternoon tea is a fountain of daydreams.

Lets breath magic into each other.

In a world of lost souls how could I ever find a home?

Summer left me like an almost lover.

If I make him my home, will I lose the home inside myself?

Every drop of her gin held a lost world of night sky dances.

I feel blurry as a reflection in water.

Kiss the words from my lips like a love poem.

One thing that makes me prefer people over books is shared laughter.

The way she danced through life was poetry.

We fell in love because we were both summer souls.

Summer was soaked with you.

I fell in love with the way you wanted more.

Let’s go back when we still saw stories in the stars.

Give me love like summer rain.

This wild heart beats restlessness.

I loathe a friend whose gratitude grows old, a friend who takes his friend’s prosperity but will not voyage with him in his grief.

Sweet is a grief well ended.

For wherein is life sweet to him who suffers grief?

Waste not fresh tears over old griefs.

The Sorrowful Virgin whose pierced heart mourned the death of Jesus now grieves for the sufferings of the crucified poor and for the creatures of this world laid waste by human power.

Men often bear little grievances with less courage than they do large misfortunes.

Grief makes one hour ten.

Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.