“I miss the love I used to see in her eyes.”

She is a kind of poison I would die for.

I miss how her whisky lips used to run all over me.

I am just a star in the space of her memories.

My eyes thread of happiness leads back to you.

You were the hardest lesson I ever had to learn.

It’s hard to breathe when she is not around.

She is the moon covered in the dress of stars.

She is the answer to my every prayer.

Missing you come in waves. Tonight I am just drowning.

She is whisky in a teacup.

The most dangerous drug I know has brown eyes and a heartbeat.

She left the room. I am still talking to her fragrance.

Her voice still echoes in my void heart.

You smell so close when I am drunk in love.

The meaning of life has suddenly appeared in the spark of her eyes.

The stars, they keep talking about you.

Then love knew it was called love. And when I lifted my eyes to your name, suddenly your heart showed me my way.

Sometimes I feel like I’m not solid. I’m hollow. There’s nothing behind my eyes. I’m a negative of a person. All I want is blackness, blackness and silence.

Absence may or may not make the heart grow fonder, but it certainly freshens the eye.

Love does not see with the eyes, but with the soul.

If we do an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, we will be a blind and toothless nation.

When the outlook is bright, bring it before their eyes; but tell them nothing when the situation is gloomy.

The memory of the Saints leads us to raise our eyes to Heaven: not to forget the realities of the earth, but to face them with more courage and hope.

When the outlook is bright, bring it before their eyes; but tell them nothing when the situation is gloomy.