“You were none, and now you’re all; your worth will rise, the more I fall.”

Hands are no longer hands. They are caresses. Mouths are no longer mouths. They are kisses. My name is no longer a name, it is a call. And love is no longer love – love is you.

I just hope you realize how much you mean to me. I just wish I could remind you of how beautiful you are. I’m sorry I haven’t told you in so long. But please don’t think I have given up on you. I will never give up on you. My arms are wide open. There is always a place for you here.

Have you ever loved a rose, and bled against her thorns; and swear each night to let her go, then love her more by dawn.

In time she will learn, not to miss them.

When words run dry, he does not try, nor do I. We are on par. He just is, I just am and we just are.

It was the year you learned that shooting stars were either a blessing or a curse, depending on what you wanted to believe.

The briefest moment shared with you-the longest on my mind.

I don’t know how you are so familiar to me-or why it feels less like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before-in another time, a different place, some other existence.

I thought you were a keeper, I wish I could have kept you.

If you love my heart and mind, then you would love me, for all that I’m. But if you don’t love my every flaw, then you mustn’t love me- not at all.

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

When someone stirs a world of emotion in you and it’s so intense you can barely stand to be with him.

But it was now time for her to go away-to find someone who could show her what happiness was.

We had no ending, no said goodbye. For all my life, I’ll wonder why.

I’m a stranger in my own life.

When two souls fall in love, there is nothing else but the yearning to be close to the other. The presence that is felt through a hand held, a voice heard, or a smile seen.

The night is my best friend. It calms the storm in my soul and it lets the guiding stars rise.

The brain may take advice, but not the heart, and love, having no geography, knows no boundaries: weight and sink it deep, no matter, it will rise and find the surface.

Awake, arise or be for ever fall’n.

The spirit of the kingdom undermines its defenses. People will rise against the king. A new peace is made; holy laws deteriorate. Paris has never before found herself in such dire straits.

In the third month, the sun rising, the Boar and the Leopard on the field of Mars to fight; The tired Leopard raises its eye to the heavens, sees an eagle playing around the sun.

There is an ecstasy that marks the summit of life, and beyond which life cannot rise. And such is the paradox of living, this ecstasy comes when one is most alive, and it comes as a complete forgetfulness that one is alive.

She thougt of sunrise over the library slope at Cornell University that nobody out on it had seen because the slope faces west.

The night folds her trembling hands over a weary world. Out of a pale blue rises the shining moon. My thoughts are flying to the stars like lonely swans.