“She breathes with ease only when she knows that her core is special just like her existence.”

The pearls on her wrist, giving out the green light of emerald nurturing, sparks the flame of life in his eyes.

Her dreams, visions, and goals were in love with her, they beautifully came to life.

Smile and let the one whose existence sparks you, be the generator of your precious curving of the mouth.

You make my life meaningful, she smiled at the woman looking at her in the mirror.

Her delicate shoulders held mountains of pressure but her soul was far more strong than the depth-filled ocean.

Health is a wealth that is irreplaceable and we only realize its value when it starts failing.

She touched the curves of letters that made art on her paper, knowing too well that they will give shape to the smiles of her admirers.

Looking at her, you would feel she was a porcelain doll with eyes full of fire and flames of life, that washed her away from the air bubbles of uncertainty.

If you look at her she is plain and white, blink your eyes and look again, she is filled with every color of this universe embedded in simplicity.

She has a bunny, that sleeps on her palm, he wished it was his hand in her palm instead.

Her veins are filled with the ink that writes onto the paper of her life and canvas.

She kneeled in front of him and drank away the teardrops, that was the power she held with her healing aura.

She is the lighthouse that guards the ship, the shore, the sea of his life, without her, there is no him.

Her end was her beginning, and her every new start was the end to her old version.

She wanted him to touch her velvety plush and blossom core, till she moans out words of prose and poetry.

Her thunders, storms, lightning, are destructive or life-giving but it all depends on who is standing in front of her.

An untempted woman cannot boast of her chastity.

[Before being burned at the stake for her faith:] Hold the cross high so I may see it through the flames.

My marriage is on the rocks again, yeah, my wife just broke up with her boyfriend.

His lips have confessed his love but her heart bleeds ice cold blood that doesn’t revive with the confession of life-giving moments, as she is someone who has surpassed the bonds of love.

She doesn’t give you time for questions as she locks up your arms in hers. And you follow till your sense of direction completely disappears.

It’s not preppies, cause I’m a preppie myself. I just don’t like homosexuals. If you ask me, they’re all homosexuals in the Pudding. Hey, I was glad when that Pudding homosexual got killed in Philadelphia.

I’m raising a daughter. I want to be able to say to her, “You can be anything you want. You can be the President of the United States.” I’d love that.

Rosa Parks was primed, she had the Civil Rights Movement behind her, she didn’t just decide to sit on the bus, it was strategic.