“Tell me a love story that begins with when you met yourself.”

You, when I’m afraid, and you when I’m brave.

This is what the heart wants. This is what the head won’t get.

Spring blooms, even in places where life once ended.

Answers will bring you home, but questions – they’ll take you everywhere.

And every time they have touched me, my skin has asked if its you.

Feel, so you can heal. Heal, so you can feel.

And despite it all, we dream. That is our greatest resistance.

Nothing born of sun and storms is ever weak in any form.

It could be the end of a story. It could be the beginning.

And then there’s you: my greatest reminder that god is a poet, too.

The hardest part of living the dream is believing you are.

I told the night everything about you. It smiled, and said, “stranger dreams have come true”.

Who knew the shortest nights would stay with us the longest? – solstice.

The best memories are the ones where I remember you and nothing else.

It is about learning to move with your grief, and dance.

And if it ends today, know that it was without a doubt, always you.

When all the thoughts are concerning one thing and the person loses interest in other things, the melancholy begins.

Prejudice, a dirty word, and faith, a clean one, have something in common: they both begin where reason ends.

In the beginning, before the arrival of the white men, I had considered myself neutral. I had wanted neither side to win, neither the army nor the rebels. As it turned out, both sides lost.

So valuable to heaven is the dignity of the human soul that every member of the human race has a guardian angel from the moment the person begins to be.

In dreams begin responsibilitiy.

Perhaps the story you finish is never the one you begin.

An autobiography is only ‘a sort of life’ – it may contain less errors of fact than a biography, but it is of necessity even more selective: it begins later and it ends prematurely.

In Germany, a new sect shall be born which shall renew ancient pagan times.