“Anybody can write. Anybody! A writer just rewrites better.”

The half naked priest in the temple got offended by her sleeveless blouse!

Their minds have met. Hearts, might never.

He thought that he wanted the whole world. When she arrived in his life, she became his whole world.

When you start defending someone by justifying their actions; you’re too attached.

He hit her for the first time. It was enough for this lifetime.

People are not born warriors! But there are battles, they didn’t even chose to be in but have to fight for survival, which make them fierce and ruthless warriors.

He thinks that his superpower is the ability to happily stay alone. In reality, its his defense mechanism!

The only problem with closures is that you think you want it but in reality, it just kills a dead hope.

She can relate to darkness it absorbs everything.

He was an ocean of pure love but after what he had to go through, now he’s a desert of hopeless romance.

She believes that she’s learnt to stay alone. Deep down in her heart she feels lonely.

Until homes are empty, Hospitals and crematoriums are bound to be full.

A writer touches your soul. A good writer isn’t interested in touching your soul but disturbing it.

They have different opinions. But the love is mutual.

Pleasure disguised himself as happiness and stole life away.

They said that women can’t be good drivers. So, she became a fearless pilot.

It’s a man’s sincerity and depth of vision that makes him a poet.

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.

A film is never really good unless the camera is an eye in the head of a poet.

I write poetry hoping that one day I fall in love with the poet.

I think most art comes out of poverty and hard times.

We read fine things but never feel them to the full until we have gone the same steps as the author.

Poetry is a sword of lightning, ever unsheathed, which consumes the scabbard that would contain it.

Souls of poets dead and gone, What Elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern, Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern? Have ye tippled drink more fine Than mine host’s Canary wine?