“Someday, we will look back, and we won’t be ashamed.”

Without rhymes and metaphors I am, at my core, just a lover left alone.

You can risk or forever regret about chances you missed.

For what its worth, I thought we would make it. I wished – I really did.

In the end, what matters is how you lived your life. Were you happy? Did you love enough? Did you reach for the stars?

They bleed not in the mouth but through their ink – indelible and dark.

May the sun shine brighter on days when you feel like your battle’s getting harder.

The right hands will erase your aches for love builds more than it breaks.

She is love in its purest form; her arms, the safest place I’ve known. She is the scent of home; the warrior who carried me in her womb.

Your memory is my opium – sustaining me daily, killing me softly.

We made promises, and then life happened.

But despite it all, I’m glad we happened.

Nothing in life is worth pursuing if it means prolonging your suffering.

Am I little mad for writing someone I’ll never have?

People are much brighter and more beautiful when they talk of things they love.

Pain and loneliness can be addictive, but there can also be strength in embracing it.

Silence is a loud language – weapon of the wise, solace of the tired hearts.

I’m always living in hope that one day she’ll say she just wants me!

The ladle is in the soup pot every day, but it doesn’t know the taste of the soup. You must reflect and meditate.

I could come home from school and just watch it all day. It just interested me.

You should think about your own death 3 times per day at the very least.

So there are many who are people of the day and who busy themselves with daytime deeds.

It is hard, it lasts all day, the lighting is generally fluorescent, and, apparently, drinking at your desk is frowned upon.

It means much to have loved, to have been happy, to have laid my hand on the living Garden, even for a day.

A new day is here. Yesterday is a memory. Tomorrow is unknown. Now is the knowing.