“I wish to be as brave as the moon; because even by the darkness, she always finds a way to shine.”

I think autumn can teach a lot about love. About how much beauty can be hidden in layers of change.

In poetry, I like to play my songs, In words is where my soul belongs.

I find hope in late summer afternoons.

I always wanted to feel it all. From the chaos of a thunderstorm to the touch of the wind. Both adrenaline and calm, fear and bravery.

There’s a soft-wild touch in love.

Go search for your soul; even if you don’t really know the route for being whole.

Maybe you’ve been through hell. But can you see how brave you were to get this far?

If you could choose to be anyone, would you still choose to be you?

Please, don’t listen to all the hate and take a little break to fall in love with you.

We have the entire universe within the soul. So dark and empty and yet, so full of light, so whole.

You’re like the sun; because nor the grey nor the storm can bring down the essence of your wildest form.

Storms can ruin gardens, but that doesn’t mean you won’t see flowers again.

The more you believe, the brighter you will shine.

She is like water lily, because in the most hostile waters she blooms.

My love, you know the colors of my soul.

When they try to break you down let the rain nourish your roots; let yourself flourish away.

Look you dead in the face Now tell me how good does it taste.

America makes prodigious mistakes, America has colossal faults, but one thing cannot be denied: America is always on the move. She may be going to Hell, of course, but at least she isn’t standing still.

America makes prodigious mistakes, America has colossal faults, but one thing cannot be denied: America is always on the move. She may be going to Hell, of course, but at least she isn’t standing still.

America makes prodigious mistakes, America has colossal faults, but one thing cannot be denied: America is always on the move. She may be going to Hell, of course, but at least she isn’t standing still.

Come in, my dear from that harsh world that has rained elements of stone upon your tender face. Every soul should receive a toast from us for bravery!

And that, is the story of our country, one invasion after another Macedonians. Saddanians. Arabs. Mongols. Now the Soviets. But we’re like those walls up there. Battered, and nothing pretty to look at, but still standing.

The result showed that fortune helps the brave.

The toughest decision I ever made was staying alive when life was unbearable.