“Oh darling, if the universe would need the love of us careless humans to keep its restless heart alive the sky would be full of dead stars.”

Let’s dance to the tranquil melody of our love; a waltz of peculiar sadness & profound melancholy. Underneath the velvet night sky of somber thoughts – witnessed only by the most vivid stars.

Since you are gone, I collect the stars each night building my own night sky, so I have something to hold onto forever.

The fading blue of yesterdays sky is reminding me of the hopeless love I told the moon about you.

We should never allow that the scars on our heart change the way we love – no matter how deep they run.

The more I write about us, the more our love feels like art.

We break ourselves to fit better into all the wrong hearts.

Some break their hearts themselves to be healed of the wrong love.

Forever seems dreadful without a love to fill it with.

The dark silhouette of a forgotten rose in a forbidden garden of love; what kind of delicate fragrance of forgiveness it seems to tell my heart about.

We can not all love in the same way – for the feeling would be called ordinariness instead. And of that, the world has too much already.

Simple things are the most difficult ones; they enquire much more than one thought of ordinariness.

Solitude causes more wounds than it was ever meant to heal.

How a love ends should never define your next one.

Some choices are destined to be mistakes.

Sometimes scars run deeper than wounds ever did.

How simple tomorrow seems when there is nothing worth remembering (about yesterday).

When all the original blues guys are gone, you start to realize that someone has to tend to the tradition. I recognize that I have some responsibility to keep the music alive, and it’s a pretty honorable position to be in.

I could never write my memoirs, just because too many people are still alive and would be hurt.

Your body’s made to run, to walk, to trek long distances and carry things, work in a forest, and hunt animals. You have to keep it alive to function.

It doesn’t matter how many people I’ve killed. What matters is how I get along with the people who are still alive.

I swear that ever since the first day You brought me back to life, The day You became my Friend, I have not slept – And even if You drive me from your door, I swear again that we will never be separated – Because You are alive in my heart

It may have killed the cat but curiosity is what keeps me alive.

My earliest memories are the best. I always try to remember the good times when Daddy was alive.

To those people who say, ‘My father is alive because of animal experimentation,’ I say, ‘Yeah, well, good for you. This dog died so your father could live.’ Sorry, but I am just not behind that kind of trade-off.