“I don’t think all writers are sad, she said. I think it’s the other way around- all sad people write.”

You’re young and there’s still so much ahead. So much uncertainty and doubt. It keeps you up at night-this wild, restless feeling. But you don’t know how free you are. For this short, miraculous time, you have no one to answer to, nothing to lose. You belong wholly to yourself.

I want you to remember my lips beneath your fingers and how you told me things you never told another soul. I want you to know that I have kept sacred, everything you had entrusted in me and I always will.

The time may not be prime for us, though you are a special person. We may be just two different clocks, that do not tock, in unison.

Loving you is like being ten years old again, scaling a tree with my eyes bright and skyward, wanting only to get higher and higher, without a thought of how I would get back down.

But when I look at you, I just know instinctively, that despite the odds against you and although life will always find a way to test you, someday you’ll have everything you want. Your ending will be a happy one.

You’re still crying about him aren’t you? Silly girl. What good will it do you to spill those sky blu tears? You meant either everything to him or absolutely nothing at all.

There are days when the melancholy settles on you like a sudden change in weather. The kind of sadness that is intangible. Like the presence of an ache where you can’t pinpoint exactly where it hurts, you just know it does.

Don’t you get it?” he said. “The ones who are afraid of heights don’t trust themselves enough to jump.

Searching for the one thing, that would set my sad soul free.

In cemeteries of memories, our love will lie in caskets.

You talk to me in riddles, I will answer you in rhyme. I loved you for a little- I will love you for all time.

I’m the one having to pander to you. I’m sick of being the one doing all the chasing. I’m not asking you to make me a priority – I know you’ve got a lot going on. But at least meet me halfway.

Are you like me? Do you give too much, too quickly? Do you throw yourself blindly at the world, thinking that it will always open its arms up to you?

He gave her such gifts – not the kind that were put in boxes, but the sort that filled her with imagination, breathing indescribable happiness into her life.

Remember, your words are your power. Never forget your words.

I do know there are all kinds of barriers to love. I do believe the world needs less of them.