“A rose with her thorns is still a rose.”

Each kiss is my slice of heaven on earth.

My appetite for life has returned.

Eyes closed, hearts open. Vulnerable, I surrender. Trust fall, please catch me.

My flowers rot beneath my bed. I was too selfish to part with them. I hope their deaths don’t bring hexes. Did I say flowers? I meant my exes.

He pondered, what would make them believe in me? And God created women.

Honey, you are a rose.

A creature lives deep within, rotting far beneath my skin. Touch the pain inside of me, just to let my heart be free.

I was born from nature therefore, I am art.

For my own sanity, I must love myself in an obsessive and urgent manner. My life depends on it. I am healing.

With all the secrets and lies you keep. Your beauty is only skin deep. Vamp.

Everything intensifies during a full moon. Your edge creeps up slowly on the awaiting shore.

Because of her, I know unconditional love. Because of him, I have learned to forgive. Life lessons from mom and dad.

If I can inhale I can speak up.

I am filled with mirth at my own rebirth.

Leave all hurt in the past to let love in. Hopeful. Don’t block your blessings.

You don’t need him. Bloom baby, bloom.

When at last I took the time to look into the heart of a flower, it opened up a whole new world; a world where every country walk would be an adventure, where every garden would become an enchanted one.

Blood and tears are going to be our lot, whether we like them or not. Our blood and tears will flow; maybe the parched soil of India needs them so that the fine flower of freedom may grow again.

The lovely flowers embarrass me. They make me regret I am not a bee.

When people come up and give me a compliment. I take each remark as if it were a flower. At the end of the day I lift up the bouquet of flowers I have gathered throughout the day and say, ‘Here you are, Lord, it is all Yours.’

In whatever name or form they are offered, all these flowers are laid at God’s feet, for He is the one Lord of all, the one Soul of all souls.

People trample over flowers, yet only to embrace a cactus.

If I’m wearing a flower dress, why do I have to wear underwear?

You have to water the flowers you want to grow.