“What is she like? I was told – she is a melancholy soul.”

If you love my heart and mind, then you would love me, for all that I’m. But if you don’t love my every flaw, then you mustn’t love me- not at all.

I don’t think all writers are sad, she said. I think it’s the other way around- all sad people write.

When someone stirs a world of emotion in you and it’s so intense you can barely stand to be with him.

But it was now time for her to go away-to find someone who could show her what happiness was.

We had no ending, no said goodbye. For all my life, I’ll wonder why.

I’m a stranger in my own life.

When two souls fall in love, there is nothing else but the yearning to be close to the other. The presence that is felt through a hand held, a voice heard, or a smile seen.

Souls do not have calendars or clocks, nor do they understand the notion of time or distance. They only know it feels right to know one other.

It was words that I fell for. In the end, it was words that broke my heart.

A Betrayal I cannot undo what I have done; I can’t un-sing a song that’s sung. And the saddest thing about my regret- I can’t forgive me, and you can’t forget.

It was a kind love, a selfless love. I was a dreamer, and you were a traveler. We met at the crossroads. I saw love in your smile, and I recognized it for the first time in my life. But you had a plane to catch, and I was already home.

Then there is the boy you can never stop thinking about. Whenever you see his name, it trips you up. Even if it’s one that belongs to many others, even if he belongs to someone else.

Don’t stay where you are needed. Go where you are loved.

It was a question I had worn on my lips for days – like a loose thread on my favourite sweater I couldn’t resist pulling – despite knowing it could all unravel around me. “Do you love me, I ask?” In your hesitation I found my answer.

I loved you more than love was allowed.

I still search for you in crowds, in empty fields and soaring clouds. In city lights and passing cars, on winding roads and wishing stars.

It covers me like the embrace of the sky. Like a closed one bidding goodbye. Like those smeared memories and lyrics of a melancholy song, Home, Home is what I long for.

She wore courage to cover her melancholy, Dear Heart, What is this tragedy?

And so being young and dipped in folly I fell in love with melancholy.

The melancholy joys of evils pass’d, For he who much has suffer’d, much will know.

The diseases that we civilized people labor under most are melancholy and pessimism.

Melancholy is the happiness of being sad.

Nothing thicker than a knife’s blade separates happiness from melancholy.

There is a life and there is a death, and there are beauty and melancholy between.