“See the wonder that exists all around you – and know that you belong.”

I lost myself willfully in half-forgotten madness, futilely for in the throes, I still remember you.

Shadows may haunt your steps, but you will keep walking.

Although my heart has broken a thousand times, it has never lost its capacity for love.

To be the water that engulfs your skin, oh, let me be the sea you drown in.

Her thoughts are poetry, sheer beauty to behold, pay attention when she gives you a glimpse.

And every breath without you is torture, but at least I can finally breathe again.

And I’m bruised but never broken.

There is a story to tell in even the mundane, and beauty in the most unsuspecting.

And you have fast become my weakness, even as you remain my source of strength.

To be looked at and not found wanting – how beautiful to be enough.

My skin holds echoes of you; in every line, you used to trace and empty space you used to fill.

I accepted all of you – except for the vital part, that couldn’t accept all of me.

And when I lie broken with my face pressed to the earth – I will look to the cloudless sky, and reach out for it once more.

In the pause between your breaths and the space between your heartbeats, I think I heard forever.

This heaviness inside my bones tells me, I still carry the weight of loving you.

And all I wish is that your happiness would reach beneath the surface of your skin, grow deep roots, and bloom.

The less people know about you, the more you understand how beautiful life is. It’s good when you exist only on screen. I don’t want them to take me home. I love to have my privacy.

Basically I am just another actor who loves his work and this thing about age only exists in the media.

Pretty girls behave best when you ignore them. Of course, they have to know you are ignoring them, for otherwise they may not even know you exist.

Wisdom is the most expensive thing in existence.

I trust the universe. If we exist for each other, time will bring is both back to our beginning.

Whatever the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth -whether it existed before or not.

We are all marks of condensation on polished glass; steadily fading away.

I have an habitual feeling of my real life having past, and that I am leading a posthumous existence.