“I meant to write about death, only life came breaking in as usual.”

Women have burnt like beacons in all the works of all the poets from the beginning of time.

Nothing thicker than a knife’s blade separates happiness from melancholy.

Growing up is losing some illusions, in order to acquire others.

Style is a very simple matter; it is all rhythm. Once you get that, you can’t use the wrong words.

No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself.

He who robs us of our dreams robs us of our life.

He smiled the most exquisite smile, veiled by memory, tinged by dreams.

The extraordinary woman depends on the ordinary woman.

I will go down with my colours flying.

Blame it or praise it, there is no denying the wild horse in us.

Writing is like sex. First you do it for love, then you do it for your friends, and then you do it for money.

Love had a thousand shapes.

It was a silly, silly dream, being unhappy.

I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you’re everything that exists; the reality of everything.

I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.

We are the words; we are the music; we are the thing itself.

Feed me lies but later watch me breaking all the ties.

If our civilization is to survive, we must break with the habit of deference to great men.

I did everything I could to fix you and in return, you broke me.

And you broke me in all the ways I loved you.

Humans need breaks. Humans need to cry. Humans need to feel mad, sad, happy, and all the emotions in between. And humans need to have boundaries. 

And I realized It was when you loved me that my heart broke the most.

I stole so many parts of me just to make you complete.

And you will always be my most beautiful someone.