“I never knew I lost in love’s game until I was the only one left burning in flames.”

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.

Set my soul on fire by lighting up the flames of lust that makes the inside of me burn for love.

How is it possible that with one stare I’m in flames and no fire extinguisher shall help me? and so here I stand a tree burning from inside out of love from you.

I am the fiery life of the essence of God; I am the flame above the beauty in the fields; I shine in the waters; I burn in the sun, the moon, and the stars. And with the airy wind, I quicken all things vitally by an unseen, all-sustaining life.

There is a fire raging inside you; do not allow anyone to extinguish it. And so on these nights when you think you are broken, remember the flame, and feel it burn.

Books are meat and medicine and flame and flight and flower steel, stitch, cloud and clout, and drumbeats on the air.

The fire has its flame and praises God. The wind blows the flame and praises God. In the voice we hear the word which praises God. And the word, when heard, praises God. So all of creation is a song of praise to God.

Never allow any soul to clips your wings, you were born an ember. You were born a flame.

She is a flame in angel skin.