“A memory is a star or a stain.”

Love would be easy if the heart is egoless.

It always rains hardest on people who deserve the sun.

I have been wearing the ocean all day.

Fools fall in love, wise rise in it.

Theres beauty in pain, its called growth.

Two damaged people trying to heal each other is love.

Temporary people teach us permanent lessons.

Young people fall in love with the wrong people sometimes.

You can’t change their behavior by loving them harder.

When the trust is broken sorry means nothing.

You make me smile despite the miles.

We started with a hi and ended with a lie.

Don’t worry the right one won’t leave.

Don’t love anything more than life.

The women with the highest walls have the deepest love.

True love isn’t real unless its returned.

Who knows what true loneliness is – not the conventional word but the naked terror? To the lonely themselves it wears a mask. The most miserable outcast hugs some memory or some illusion.

How surely are the dead beyond death. Death is what the living carry with them. A state of dread, like some uncanny foretaste of a bitter memory. But the dead do not remember and nothingness is not a curse. Far from it.

The marble keeps merely a cold and sad memory of a man who would else be forgotten. No man who needs a monument ever ought to have one.

Memories are killing. So you must not think of certain things, of those that are dear to you, or rather you must think of them, for if you don’t there is the danger of finding them, in your mind, little by little.

I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!

There is great incongruity in this idea of monuments, since those to whom they are usually dedicated need no such recognition to embalm their memory; and any man who does, is not worthy of one.

In the memory of the dead all chronological differences are effaced.

And, even yet, I dare not let it languish, Dare not indulge in memory’s rapturous pain; Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish, How could I seek the empty world again?