“Misery doesn’t love just any company it desires the kind presence only loneliness feeds but that’s not love at all. – love doesn’t eat it bleeds.”

I ate my grief and swallowed salt tears like they were the only things left on earth to consume.

The hardest part of living is experiencing death without dying.

They say the sky’s the limit what happens when you hit the ceiling?

Memories are lifelines to the lives we’ve lost.

Whats your greatest fear? I’m afraid of heights. Do you fear the heights in which you stand or at the depths to which you may fall? – fear of falling.

The hardest part of living is experiencing death without dying.

I hear the rain fall and suddenly I don’t feel so alone because the sky is crying too.

I wonder how different the world would be if we all said what we meant and meant what we said? – speak up.

As the morning dawns my soul stands motionless before your presence be still and know is my hearts meditation.

All of the words in her head keep her from being lonely but they aren’t always kind.

I’m in a constant state of finding myself then losing her all over agin. – the cycle.

I’ll empathize with your sad story and wish you could bear mine. – the weight of empathy.

Let your weary soul rest in between each borrowed breath.

A force of nature an anomaly she was a personified hurricane.

Is it still a game if no one knows your hiding? – hide and seek.

Can the contents of a bottle make misery evaporate? I’ll be damned if it does but I’ll spin it anyway. – self medicated.

The weapon of suicide bombing is so desperate that you aren’t even left with the possibility of taking revenge or punishing anyone; the terrorist is killed along with his victims, his blood mixing with theirs

You cannot spill a drop of American blood without spilling the blood of the whole world…. We are not a nation, so much as a world.

The blues was bleeding the same blood as me.

Albert King wasn’t my brother in blood, but he sure was my brother in Blues.

It is not flesh and blood, but heart which makes us fathers and sons.

She is handpicked by nature to bleed. Look, how she makes pain bow down and plead.

The Thracian people, like the bloodiest of the barbarians, being ever most murderous when it has nothing to fear.

And then writer in you is so homesick of pain, that you plead your wounds to bleed and ache.