“Surviving is to overcome a hurting wound living is to see your face each morning.”

It is hard holding a spot in your body that doesn’t want you.

I chose myself today, not over you. I can never do that, and you know that well. I just chose the new me over my past self.

The believe you carry in yourself is what makes you unbelievable for others.

When you let me touch your skin, I can feel your pain. What joy you get in keeping me away?

Entangle me, into your talkative eyes. Let me breathe in, your breath often. For I’m tired of floating, in the shallow waters, when I want to get choked.

Sometimes its suffocating by being surrounded with happiness and not being able to feel it.

Sometimes, I feel sorry for you. I’m not there to hold you, and this clouded sky do not let you talk to the moon.

Your departure is no joke it freaks me out every time you leave for the airport.

If I’m sharing you with myself, I’m daring to share your thirst for warmth, your body and soul, even your mistakes gone wrong.

Darling, everything is likely to fall in place, only if you make up your mind to stay.

My notebook couldn’t carry the burden of all those words which my heart once felt.

We have engaged ourselves so much in the idea of self love, that everyone else appears to be empty shelves.

The sound of those crickets still drowns me in the summer fantasy.

She who has the courage to dive deep into the ocean will find the pearls.

I couldn’t experience an end with you, because you have always been a beginning to something new every day.

I found the universe in you when people thought the sky is the limit.

The greatest danger you face is your mind growing soft and your eye getting dull.

Sometimes I’ll post goofy photos of myself on Instagram without make-up or making silly faces. I don’t always look like a little Barbie doll.

It is with blows dealt by public contempt that a husband kills his wife in the nineteenth century; it is by shutting the doors ofall the drawing-rooms in her face.

If we all said to people’s faces what we say behind one another’s backs, society would be impossible.

Art has no other object than to set aside the symbols of practical utility, the generalities that are conventionally and socially accepted, everything in fact which masks reality from us, in order to set us face to face with reality itself.

An organization that is not facing up to people who are not getting the job done, is going to have difficulties.

The story of Pakistan, its struggle and its achievement, is the very story of great human ideals, struggling to survive in the face of great odds and difficulties.

I wonder if to stare into the face of God will drive me crazy. (I wonder who would blink first.)