“She was the book that was not written. The sentence that was not scripted. She was the word you wished you could have said.”

It was a question I had worn on my lips for days – like a loose thread on my favourite sweater I couldn’t resist pulling – despite knowing it could all unravel around me. “Do you love me, I ask?” In your hesitation I found my answer.

I loved you more than love was allowed.

I still search for you in crowds, in empty fields and soaring clouds. In city lights and passing cars, on winding roads and wishing stars.

And I sighed and wept for what could not be–and for all that could have been.

We may be just two different clocks, that do not tock in unison.

What is she like? I was told – she is a melancholy soul.

Sometimes the loneliest place to be is in love.

Before the tears that tore us, when our history was before us.

I learned that writing is the consolation prize you are given when you don’t get the thing you want the most.

In her eyes, the sadness sings-of one who was destined, for better things.

When you lose a person, a whole universe goes along with them.

She can feel it down to her very core-this is her time. She will not only climb mountains-she will move them too.

He swept in like a tsunami, wave after wave, and I didn’t stand a chance. All those warnings, all the things they tried to prepare me for-lost in an instant-to the enormity of what I felt.

I wanted everything because I didn’t want anything enough.

The sad thing is, she said, the moment you start to miss someone, it means they’re already gone.

In a sea of strangers, you’ve longed to know me. Your life spent sailing to my shores.

No one could ad lib like Peter. You would think that it was all scripted, he was so poetic, but it wasn’t.

For me, a script has to be convincing, bold, and experimental. It needs to overpower all my senses.

When I initially read the script, it goes inside and comes out different things even without commenting on any stuff. And then, those pieces are taken out and then spread out through the movie.

The Gospel has to be the norm.

I was raised in a Catholic school, and I would always go to church on Sunday, and I would hear the same music over and over and over and over again, same gospels, hymns, everything.

The Gospel is not about going from bad to good, it’s about going from dead to alive!

The beats are like scripts, and the raps are my monologue.

There are dialogue writers for a movie, there is a script to be followed… whatever my character says is not a reflection on my personal opinion or principles in life.