“Fault was neither yours nor mine, its just that it wasn’t the right time.”

I honor pain, for it is because of pain my touch has become tender, my words kinder and my heart humbler.

My heart will always be more yours than it will ever be mine.

I’m just as broken as i seem not to be.

I had gone so blind in fixing your broken pieces i forgot to see how you kept breaking mine.

You said i was your forever, so where are you now my lover?

Ripped in pieces soaked in love, unheard battles all won, I’m proud of you heart of what you’ve become.

Love is only pain in disguise.

Breathing is hard, my mind and heart both at war. This anxiety makes my living so hard!

If you knew the way you made my heart break and eyes tear, you would curse your existence .

I wonder how many heartaches must i conquer, to finally find a love that stays?

I am fire, carrying the potential to burn whole forests down, and only because it feels inconvenient i will not settle for a flame.

Don’t look at her kind eyes and mistake it for kindness, you are yet unaware about the audacity in her bones and strength in her veins.

I want someone to kiss my scars and tell me I’m beautiful still, that even after my scars I’m worthy to be loved and seen, i want someone to tell me that warriors do not come clean.

And in return for all the love i gave you, all you ever gave me was pain and heartbreak.

Woman have been warriors since the beginning of time, some of us fighting to even be born.

I’m sorry i can’t love in pieces, give me everything or nothing at all.

I promised to touch your soul. I never said it would be painless.

The Gucci woman – you know what she’s after. The Saint Laurent woman – she’s going to torture you a little bit. You might have sex, but she will drip a little hot wax on you first.

Even while living in the world, the heart of Mary was so filled with motherly tenderness and compassion for men that no-one ever suffered so much for their own pains, as Mary suffered for the pains of her children.

Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?

Today is not yesterday: we ourselves change; how can our works and thoughts, if they are always to be the fittest, continue always the same? Change, indeed is painful; yet ever needful; and if memory have its force and worth, so also has hope.

Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?

A man, to be greatly good, must imagine intensely and comprehensively; he must put himself in the place of another and of many others; the pains and pleasures of his species must become his own.

We shouldn’t deny the pain of what happens in our lives. We should just refuse to focus only on the valleys.