“If they ask you about your vice – I hope you mention my name.”

Lets admit it: we all play the game of hide and seek fairly well.

Please – stop living in boxes where you can’t breathe.

I want your madness, only if you promise to be mad about me.

I love things that smell like fire and taste like fumes: you.

We both chased our dreams and our dreams chased us. Yet we forgot to chase each other.

He wears a smile as bright as the heaven he fell from.

He’s my red adrenaline sky, but I just prayer he never paints me blue.

Its always the quiet ones who love the loudest.

I turned us into poetry because this is how we remain.

You give me butterflies in a stomach full of moths.

She’s a architect – building castle out things that nearly destroyed her.

Darling, it’s okay to fall again; these bones of yours they already know how to mend.

Pride – it screams a lot louder than love sometimes.

And I cant deny – you’re the lesson I’m willing to love in this life.

He tells me “I miss you,” and I tell him “I miss myself too.”

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

I don’t need to see how, I just need to know you.

I hope happiness fills you until the shores that surround you overflow and wash away your pain.

I’m not in love yet, but when I am, I hope it feels like october.

Hope is the best part of our riches.

Now I really feel the landscape, I can be bold and include every tone of pink and blue: it’s enchanting, it’s delicious, and I hope it will please you.

I just hope that more people will ignore the fatalism of the argument that we are beyond repair. We are not beyond repair. We are never beyond repair.

I hope by the time I’m 30 to have a husband and maybe a baby.

Present, n. That part of eternity dividing the domain of disappointment from the realm of hope.