“Scribbled lines and crumpled pages – piles of rejection and resurrection. There will never be the right words to amend a lost goodbye.”

We didn’t know it was simpler, did we? Those days of sunburnt youth and carefree adventure. Knowing that indestructible optimism would waver with experience – would I have gripped it a little tighter? Held on a little longer?

In the pale light of a setting sun – I’ll hold your hand and promise to love you more, on the days that you forget to love yourself.

The rain reminds me of his voice, a perfectly composed melody in the sky. Each drop that falls against my window, a dedication to the oceans I would cross – just to sit beside him.

I think the scars that you left me, they remind me you were real.

I’m scared of mediocrity, of scribing my soul on fading pages, each destined to the fate that met those before it – gently laid to rest in a growing pile of unwanted words.

Words hold little scope, for a love that stretches far beyond the limitations of language.

Spirits dance on a velvet night, the sky it’s deepest black. In restless sleep and twisted dreams, they find themselves alive.

Your arms around me – and for the first time in years, I feel like I am home.

And in the end when the money is gone – will you still stay it was worth it.

And when I imagine my home – above all else, I’ll always think of you.

In the end it’s all the same – the hearty fire or the damp earth. I pray I’m not alone.

I feel like I’m on fire, fighting for a moment on respite – I’m not placing bets.

I read that good things take time – but one look at him, and I knew I could never love someone more.

The bond of friendship as tight as any lover – where shoulders carry shared burden, a devotion unmatched by any other.

What use is sleep, when reality is more beautiful than my dreams could ever muster?

You are a mirage – never mine to hold. A glimering promise so tempting to chase, eternally out of reach.

If there is anything that links the human to the divine, it is the courage to stand by a principle when everybody else rejects it.

Before you reject an idea, find at least five good things about it.

Honesty may be the best policy, but it’s important to remember that apparently, by elimination, dishonesty is the second-best policy.

It must be awful to feel you’re not needed.

Success is buried on the other side of rejection.

A clear rejection is always better than a fake promise.

Actors search for rejection. If they don’t get it they reject themselves.

There is a time to live and a time to die but never to reject the moment.