“People who are prone to sadness are more likely to pick up a pen.”

I was coming to the end of a difficult period in my life, though when the end isn’t in plain sight, you don’t realize how close you are.

Some days it felt like a burden, to smile for you. To keep the lines of worry from etching into your forehead.

Life has a way of working itself out. You’ll see.

Maybe we slip in and out of alternate worlds through our minds and our imaginations, picking up scar tissue from other dimensions.

We spoke once about lovers who kept finding each other, no matter how many times the world came between them. And I think I had to break your heart, and you had to break mine. How else could we know the worth of what we were given?

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.

Unhappy is he to whom the memories of childhood bring only fear and sadness.

Oh! The good times when we were so unhappy.

Are there not some places where we seem to breathe sadness? – why, we cannot tell. It is a chain of recollections – an idea which carries you back to other times, to other places – which, very likely, have no connection with the present time and place.

You said my sadness was like the sun, beautiful from a distance but it hurt you too much to come closer.

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.

Sadness and fear and hate, how they well up in the heart and mind, whenever one opens pages of these messengers of doom.

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

A Betrayal I cannot undo what I have done; I can’t un-sing a song that’s sung. And the saddest thing about my regret- I can’t forgive me, and you can’t forget.