“Into you, like the sun embraces the moon – a beautiful eclipse.”

You gave me the courage to rise but my darling robin why did you fly leaving me behind these four walls all alone?

To those who say self-love is selfish, you are either hunted or haunted.

Poetry is a feeling, a feeling of healing.

It’s unconditional; their chemistry is unconditional – forever.

Poetry is a pleasure to your pressure.

I never understood flowers until I met you.

Fall is the rise.

At times being oblivious keeps me more alive in this chaos.

You hit the soft spot of me making my heart skip a beat.

You are my tamed fire in the wind.

Poetry is a home, a home with joy.

No pain no worries only the beating of our hearts.

If I had wings and could fly I’d fly all seas to see your unseen beauty amid the whispers of love.

Everything seems to be a design – a mixture of prejudice and injustice – the limbo of silence.

Without you, my heart will be full of weeds.

We love to live with sweet lies until reality touches the edges, of those sweet lies.

You must accept that we are as real as you are; you must accept that you are not God.

I think my desire to always get better, to always want more, to always be my top critic, and accepting the good and the bad.

It has become almost a cliché to remark that nobody boasts of ignorance of literature, but it is socially acceptable to boast ignorance of science and proudly claim incompetence in mathematics.

In short, numbers are accepted as evidence when they agree with preconceptions, but not when they don’t.

You are the life you accept for yourself.

We’re no longer in the Cold War. Eavesdropping on friends is unacceptable.

Life can either be accepted or changed. If it is not accepted, it must be changed. If it cannot be changed, then it must be accepted.

You have to just accept your body. You may not love it all the way, but you just have to be comfortable with it, comfortable with knowing that that’s your body.