“I want to see our demons complement each other for the rest of our lives.”

What about us who would like a piece of the soul served as an aperitif before we dig into flesh?

What if last time felt so beautiful simply because it actually was our last time?

I know my worth it shouldn’t have to slap me in the face though.

Hug me from behind so we won’t have to stare the facts in the eye.

You deserve to be chosen undoubtedly over and over again not merely considered.

Your scent is one I want to know for the rest of my life.

Home is where the heart is, but my heart is with you and I’m not with it.

I fall asleep hugging myself tight, as I probably should.

Wake us from this seasonal slumber of sorts, it is time for us to finally bloom.

Falling asleep to them or waking up to them; twittering birds are a treasure either way.

I managed to cut myself loose and while there was pain – there weren’t any blood.

I’ll be a fool anywhere but never in love, I promise me that.

When your soul share the pain of theirs I would call it love.

She is not exactly wonder woman but nevertheless she is a woman full of wonders.

Forget about silly games about even sillier thrones. I know a game of love and I’m in it to win it.

I can’t tell you how much I hope that you are my forever person.

We have become ninety-nine percent money mad. The method of living at home modestly and within our income, laying a little by systematically for the proverbial rainy day which is due to come, can almost be listed among the lost arts.

Those who do not have power over the story that dominates their lives, power to retell it, to rethink it, deconstruct it, joke about it, and change it as times change, truly are powerless, because they cannot think new thoughts.

I feel everyone should feel empowered to live their best life.

Women naturally desire the same six things as I; they want their husbands to be brave, wise, rich, generous with money, obedient to the wife, and lively in bed.

Dear Society’ really is my letter to society where I express the anguish I’ve been caused from such an image-based industry and culture we live in.

What kind of living will it be when you – Oh, God! Would you like to live with your soul in the grave?

Nor love thy life, nor hate; but what thou livest, Live well; how long, or short, permit to Heaven.

That life you’re living – is it really yours?