“I have touched you in dreams, wishing to kiss you on the other side of it.”

Drank about you last night, hungover you this morning.

I’m a romantic and that’s the tragedy.

If only you could hold my heart and understand what you left behind.

If only I could kiss you as often as I think about it.

I must have loved you before, in another life, beyond a dream, across centuries.

I just want to be held without having to explain myself.

Imagine how you’ll love when healed.

It breaks my heart that some people are only kind when there is something in it for them. Everything is a business now, including human decency.

Nobody warns you about the fact that you have to go to war if you want to know peace.

Mouths that know desperation like, “the last kiss.

Our story was never one to be told, but know that I remain loving you from here.

A hand that holds what the heart knows it must let go of.

When you’re feeling doubtful, remember that an idea set forth with hard work can create miracles.

If I feel everything, is that a gift or a burden?

We couldn’t be friends because God knows we were meant to be lovers. Doomed to never belong to each other.

When everything feels a little less real, life becomes all the more frightening.

I definitely write about a lot of dreamy, surreal stuff. I do end up going to a surreal world with my music, but I also like the idea of there being really real stuff as well.

Broken hearts are what new dreams are made of.

Our love will never die. We’ll just dream another fantasy about touching each other.

If we have not achieved our early dreams, we must either find new ones or see what we can salvage from the old. If we have accomplished what we set out to do in our youth, we need not weep like Alexander the Great that we have no more worlds to conquer.

Oneness is the perfect expansion Of our inner reality. Let our hearts oneness only increase To make us feel That we belong to a universal world ? family, And this world ? family Is a fulfilled Dream of God.

I dreamed about these moments, and I think I hoped I would have them, but you don’t know. So when the lucky break hits, it’s like being Cinderella and hopefully midnight doesn’t come.

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, Just like the ones I used to know, Where the tree tops glisten And children listen To hear sleigh bells in the snow.

I’d known since about eleven that I wanted to live in America.