“The lantern of my dreams, the more it burns, the brighter it seems.”

You are the dream I never want to wake up from.

A few days might mean nothing, but when you are going through hell, they feel like an eternity.

I push people away because I’m afraid if I get hurt, I might not heal again. I push them so away. I paint my walls so good they can’t recognize me anymore. I don’t give people a chance.

After you, no one has really stayed. Maybe it’s because I look for you in everyone else.

How many tears and how much pain. Before I stand up tall and rise again?

When you are on your way to find yourself, Remember that getting lost is a part of the process.

Once I was the sun. The sun that burnt so bright it lit up everyone’s sky. The sun ran out of fuel. The sun that died under its own weight. The sun that sucks on the light of others now. The sun is now a black hole, itself.

Don’t be afraid to love all your broken pieces. They will finally wether with the waters of ages, shrinking into friendly gemlike pebbles that are soft to your soul.

I have always wished someone to look right through all my struggles without me having to utter a word.

Leave me alone in the rain. Let me feel the pain.

The brighter the light, The darker the shadows. The more the lights, The more the number of shadows.

INAUDIBLE. How am I supposed to clean up this mess? Put the pieces back together and make sure it feels alright in my chest. Then wear a smile and walk ahead.

I am an arrow – Put me in your bow and let fly. Let this story go by in the blink of an eye.

It sucks to lose everything your heart beats for.

I wish I had a time-turner so that I could spend a little more time with you. You left too soon, you left too fast.

Is it too late to bring those forevers back to life?

If you were very bright and you became head of a department, as I did, of the psychology department, you were encouraged to go on to graduate work. But as a women you didn’t even think about discrimination.

Black is not sad. Bright colours are what depress me. They’re so empty. Black is poetic. How do you imagine a poet? In a bright yellow jacket? Probably not.

Music took me from a real dark place to a real bright one.

Dazed and disoriented, I looked up from the bright red blood pulsing out of my arm – into the fevered eyes of the six suddenly ravenous vampires.

May the world be a brighter place. Be the light.

Stars shine brighter when nights are darker and life flourishes most when the rain is heavier.

I don’t see the future as bright, language-wise. I see it as a glass half empty – and evaporating quickly.

That’s what people are who have that impact on us. They are ahead of their time. They can’t help it. They get put into a small, frail body, and they are given a light that is much too bright for that cavity.