“He clearly was a destruction and i named him love.”

Some of her addictions were weird. They have heartbeats.

Anxiety is way louder than it sounds, I want to speak but i am short of breath.

I have been to places and left my heart in few. None of them felt real, none of them felt like you.

You are healing and you are doing good, like the crescent before becoming full.

Nothing is more beautiful than two broken hearts healing each other.

That damn fire she was so proud of, burnt her own bones.

I’m sure stars and moon run out of laugh, every time a lover promises pluck one of them.

Now that i am numb, i crave for pain.

Flowers only wither to bloom again. So shall you break, only to be whole again.

The wars you create, will be fought by your children, for the people already dead.

I will calm my heart with time and turn us into memories.

Stars must be fed up of hearing your name every time they fall.

Someday your pen will write a revolution. Until then, write your pain.

What a waste of scar if it doesn’t remind you of strength.

So many people around you, none like you.

More you are hurt, more you have the power to heal others.

Prime Minister Sharon, Prime Minister Abbas, I urge you today to end the designs of those who seek destruction, annihilation and occupation, and I urge you to have the will and the courage to begin to realize our dreams of peace, prosperity and coexistence.

Over the past few years, the road to confrontation has shown its consequences: loss of innocent lives, destruction and fear. Most costly, however, was the loss of hope.

Extremists, who thrive on conflict; who do not tolerate diversity; who seek power through division and destruction.

There is neither creation nor destruction, neither destiny nor free will, neither path nor achievement. This is the final truth.

For it would have been better that man should have been born dumb, nay, void of all reason, rather than that he should employ the gifts of Providence to the destruction of his neighbor.

When you master the art of being alone, darling you are indestructible.

Poetry is a dissociating and anarchic force which through analogy, associations and imagery, thrives on the destruction of known relationships.

It felt as if the sky would collapse into itself when she was near, a beautifully destructive chaotic thing.