“I close my eyes and I see you. I open them, and I’m blind.”

I got used to temporary things. I’m afraid I might not want anything permanent at all.

I want to fold you into my book, like a petal, so that you’d never leave.

No matter how astray the becoming might be, I’ll never search for the old in me.

Perhaps their voices never leave us and we spend our lives fumbling for quiet corners where we can hear them most.

Lay your head on mine and let me breathe you instead of air.

Refrain from giving pieces of yourself to those who get close, for people leave, and gifts that are given cannot be returned.

I’ve experienced departure far too much to have the courage and call anyone my own.

You’ll roam the world and come to realize: It’s all in you, to be free or not to be.

We reshape our memories into uglier versions because it’s hard to forget them while they’re still beautiful.

This is face blindness, but not really it. Among all the faces I see, I could only see yours.

I’ve always had a fear of endings, but it comes as relief to me that among all the dying things, I am one too.

Where once there were a few houses between us, now there are seas.

You float underneath my eyelids – a dream I never seem to get enough of.

Of all the lies I’ve lived, and all the lies I’ve been told, the lies I told myself hurt the most.

If there’s anything I’ve learnt so far, it’s that to love others, you should give them space to breathe.

And it scares me that if I ever get my wings, I might not know where to fly to.

They say a blind hog will find the acorn one day.

Far worst of all, the fever had settled in Mary’s eyes, and Mary was blind.

There’s a difference between a soft spot and a blind spot,

My mother would cry about my blindness and the hopelessness of my ever seeing, but I told her I wasn’t sad. I believed God had something for me to do.

When scientifically investigating the natural world, the only thing worse than a blind believer is a seeing denier.

I look at my own body With eyes no longer blind- And I see that my own hands can make The world that’s in my mind.

When I was a child, kids used to make fun of me because I was blind. But I just became more curious, ‘How can I climb this tree and get an apple for this girl?’ That’s what mattered to me.

To be blind is not miserable; not to be able to bear blindness, that is miserable.