“Why would anyone set out to break the heart of someone he loved? Why would anyone intentionally cause that kind of pain? Why did people kill each other? Because they enjoyed it.”

Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.

Work until your idols become your rivals.

Save water. Shower with your girlfriend.

We are all in the same game, just different levels, dealing with the same hell, just different devils.

We live by faith and not by sight.

The ink of the scholar is more holy than the blood of the martyr.

You don’t find willpower, you create it.

Why the hell not?

My main goal in life is to be as good of a person my dogs already think I am.

It’s going to be hard, but hard doesn’t mean impossible.

Amidst the mists and coldest frosts he thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts.

His love roared louder than her demons.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

The real trouble with reality is that there is no background music.

For GOD is greater than our hearts, and He knows everything.

For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but of power and of love and of calm and well balanced mind and discipline and self-control.

I kept thinking how marvellous it would be if I could somehow tear my heart, which felt so heavy, out of my chest.

There was this ache, to be, to be more than her realities and larger than her dreams.

Of all the things I had to endure, you were my favorite obstacle.

The breaking of my heart always did sound like the crack of lightening.

All of this heartache is a war story.

We are broken. But never beyond repair.

We spent a life time loving, to write an ode to heartbreak in the end.

You are a nameless prayer, my heart begs to be brought again to existence.