“If I could choose how to die, I would drown in your eyes.”

Such is the tragedy of the moon and sun; one sets the other rises perhaps you and i share the same destiny; one day the other night made to cross paths but never meet.

Loving you was grey you were never really here, never really away, I was always there always in reach but you were somewhere in the air.

Fools are not those in love rather, fools are those who run from love and I have a habit of falling for fools.

You were a pleasant surprise, my love like the inspiration in between of writer’s block.

When people ask about us now I say we are strangers but not the kind you may think we just happen to be strangers who know every mundane detail about each other.

I do not want a soft love, I want to be crushed.

Maybe in another life I won’t be as hard as to love.

There are bigger problems in the world than those of love despite this I can’t fathom why I think I may die if i can’t have you.

I always knew you loved the ocean from the way you dived in and out of me.

The clouds in my head are raining hell today.

I have a heart of glass, When I break I don’t fall apart, I shatter.

My heart bleeds at the thought of being unable to live all the lives I have planned in my head.

And in the same way sunflowers involuntarily follow the sun shined so bright, you could have led me to hell and I would have followed you anyway.

Being with you is familiar, like playing guitar after some time; the theory is there but my fingers have forgotten the chords.

You will never know this love, I will never show.

I don’t know which is sadder, the fact That I am severely depressed, or the fact that no one has noticed.

The mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death.

I’m not afraid of death because I don’t believe in it. It’s just getting out of one car, and into another.

It’s liberty or it’s death. It’s freedom for everybody or freedom for nobody.

It is not difficult to avoid death, gentlemen of the jury; it is much more difficult to avoid wickedness, for it runs faster than death.

Someday death will take us to another star.

There is a life and there is a death, and there are beauty and melancholy between.

No one really knows why they are alive until they know what they’d die for.

Leisure without books is death, and burial of a man alive.