“She has the scent of cinnamon summer that the roots of winter absorb.”

Warriors have emerged from the ashes of trials and sacrifices.

She was a moon, that vanished and transformed into fullness.

There was a huge gulf between the one who watered your soil and the one who drain water like roots.

Make your circle precious, full of unique souls.

She had many phases and each was as unique than the other.

It took courage to reach the state of resilience with the adornment of winning over adversity.

The berries of her love bleed, wilt and get scorched with the harshness of pain that is masked by smile.

Her eyes shone with the radiance of vibrant life reflecting the blossoms of her heart.

She is a woman who values the voices of her aura.

She was the freedom of his existence that rushed in like tsunami, that ignited his breaths into calm.

She was a recovered woman dipped in happiness, cleansed of darkness that would lit her aflame.

The white pure sheet of her life had thunderous and royal purple lavendar pride with a golden heart.

Moon and stars are what my dark sky has felt but with the story love of his existence.

Moon and stars are what my dark sky has felt but with the story love of his existence.

She is a woman that stands upright with her hand on her sword and pen that protects the innocent with her courage.

Her stressed soul had windows of crushing shards of wilting petals screaming for life.

Everyone is beautiful and a positive smile multiplies it.

It is really beautiful to hear I miss you from someone close to your heart.

I would warn you that I do not attribute to nature either beauty or deformity, order or confusion. Only in relation to our imagination can things be called beautiful or ugly, well-ordered or confused.

One day, in retrospect, the years of struggle will strike you as the most beautiful.

One day, in retrospect, the years of struggle will strike you as the most beautiful.

Beautiful people are not always good, but good people are always beautiful.

That pleasure which is at once the most pure, the most elevating and the most intense, is derived, I maintain, from the contemplation of the beautiful.

How beautiful it would be if the poor could occupy in our hearts the place they have in the heart of God!