“I want you to be happy. I want someone else to know the warmth of your smile, to feel the way I did when I was in your presence.”

We all need to follow our intuition, even if it takes us down the wrong path. Otherwise, you’ll always be second-guessing yourself.

Of all you’ve used against me, the worst has been my words.

The distance from you is measured in how far I’ve come.

Anything and everything, the two almost the same–everything says, have it all; anything, one to claim.

There is a certain quality to words that when strung in a certain way-has an almost hypnotic effect.

Our emotions pull us in different directions. The stronger the emotion, the greater the pull. Feelings are not always practical, nor do they make any logical sense. That’s just the way it goes.

When was the last time you felt like someone knew you and not the person you’ve been pretending to be. When was the last time you felt like yourself.

Now that you have it all, do you ever wish you could go back to when you had it simple?

The memory of you is fading, a little at a time, and I can feel myself forgetting.

I wish I could put a pen in your hand and gently remind you how the world has given you poetry and now you must give it back.

I know you are scared. Who could blame you? Love is a hurricane wrapped inside a chrysalis. And you are a girl walking into the storm.

Some pieces will sing to your present, others may echo of your past, and the rest could whisper of your future.

It was beautifully worded and painfully read; the things that were written, were those never said.

There is one who you belong to, whose love- there is no song for.

I used to think I couldn’t go a day without your smile. Without telling you things and hearing your voice back.

The feeling is like the ocean. Sometimes calm and still; other times, it’s a hurricane.

What, start at this! when sixty years have spread. Their grey experience o’er thy hoary head? Is this the all observing age could gain? Or hast thou known the world so long in vain?

My heavens! I’ve been talking prose for the last forty years without knowing it.

There is a pleasure in being mad, which none but madmen know.

Learning to cultivate an awareness of the known and unknown within one’s being often leads to a healthier and more realistic sense of self.

Confidence is the feeling we have before knowing all the facts.

What shall I do to be for ever known, And make the age to come my own?

Good Heavens! For more than forty years I have been speaking prose without knowing it.

It is better to will the good than to know the truth.