“You taste love once & exhale destruction forever.”

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.

When work goes out of style we may expect to see civilization totter and fall.

The rate of profit is naturally low in rich and high in poor countries, and it is always highest in the countries which are going fastest to ruin.

We need a new kind of politics. Not the politics of governance, but the politics of resistance. The politics of opposition. The politics of joining hands across the world and preventing certain destruction.

Great nations are never impoverished by private, though they sometimes are by public prodigality and misconduct.

I have a premonition that will not leave me: as it goes with Israel so will it go with all of us. Should Israel perish, the holocaust will be upon us.

The symbol of all art is the Prism. The goal is unrealism. The method is destructive. To break up the white light of objective realism, into the secret glories which it contains.

Death is but an aspect of life, and the destruction of one material form is but a prelude to building up of another.

Either way, change will come. It could be bloody, or it could be beautiful. It depends on us.