“Her stories always ended with three dots, sounding like an unfinished melody; she hoped he would guess the rest.”

Its dangerous but you can’t surf on ripples.

The more you know her the more it scares yet it makes you wish you knew her more.

Blind are those who see only through eyes.

They said my success happened naturally, but who said nature is easy?

I have felt so much on my own I need a serious reason to let you in.

When the chaos creates comfort, and pain stops hurting your head, when you learn and accept the whole world, You know you possess yourself.

She was a strong and smart woman and could repair even a leaking sink and a broken TV. Doing everything on her own, still she always let him pull down her zipper…

Baby we are not getting older each day we live our new versions and the new has no age.

Whats there to remember we made the most memories remembering each other.

What is perfect love if not loving each others imperfections perfectly?

She was too much for you…Pouring her love onto you, she thought she would quench your thirst, but you drowned…She didn’t know your heart was just a shot glass and not a continent.

My words fly around you like the annoying flies that only exist to disturb the silence and bite sometimes. When did I become so small

The irony is that we had more intimacy when apart.

What I love the most about us is that we are fully committed to each other without losing ourselves.

We used to play with barbies and when we grew up, we willingly became dolls in the hands of men, i guess we just miss our childhood games.

Don’t write about me I was never meant to be your poem.

All troubles come to an end when the ego dies

What will the present chaos lead to? How will it all end? It can only end in one way. Mankind will be sick of it all.

You were a beautiful chapter, but not my last.

Let grace and goodness be the principal loadstone of thy affections. For love which hath ends, will have an end; whereas that which is founded on true virtue, will always continue.

Death ends our woes, and the kind grave shuts up the mournful scene.

In my family, Father is the world champion at ending conversations.

The spearhead of progress. If they are fundamentally wrong, free discussion will in time put an end to them.

Death is a sleep that ends our dreaming. Oh, that we may be allowed to wake before death wakes us.