“Some days survival is all the living I can do.”

You taught me to believe in love and then showed me exactly why I shouldn’t.

And again my mind runs to you in the way that rivers can’t help but return to the salt.

There are pieces of you in all the things you have loved. This is how we live forever.

I have never known what happiness really means, but I’m sure it sounds a lot like your name.

Everything I know of love is told in the bruises we left on each other.

I’m sorry for being this hard to love.

I know you will take the last of me and I will love you anyway.

I am a child of autumn: At home amongst things that only know of falling.

I knew I loved you before I understood what that meant.

All I really know is whatever the cost you’re worth it.

I spent a lifetime building shrine to things that can’t love me back. (music, poetry, you)

My body has always been a stranger. And it aches in a language I don’t understand.

And again I wake up hoping today is the day I don’t miss you.

I don’t know how else to say it. I will love you for the rest of my life.

Of all the people I’ve been the man you loved is the only one I miss.

Maybe letting go isn’t all that different to loving you.

Plurality is the condition of human action because we are all the same, that is, human, in such a way that nobody is ever the same as anyone else who ever lived, lives, or will live.

Darling, you are a warrior, for even though each day feels like a battle, you keep fighting and live on.

Love is something far more than the desire for sexual intercourse it is the principal means of escape from the loneliness which afflicts most men and women throughout the greater part of their lives.

We need the courage to learn from our past and not live in it.

Surely something resides in this heart that is not perishable – and life is more than a dream.

Life belongs to the living, and he who lives must be prepared for changes.

Dreams don’t work unless you take action. The surest way to make your dreams come true is to live them.

The life of the dead is set in the memory of the living.