“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.”

Summer was felt a little more; in autumn I began to fall. When winter came with all its white, you were mine to kiss goodnight.

I think the mysterious pull that draws you to another person is identical to the one that moves our eyes upward to the stars.

I hope someday you will find me and remember what I once meant to you.

It’s so dark right now, I can’t see any light around me. That’s because the light is coming from you. You can’t see it but everyone else can.

If any person claims to have loved twice in all their life – they have not loved at all.

I know there is a terrible distance between us. But our bodies are made of stardust, and we are hurtling through space and time, toward the most beautiful collision.

To love is a dare, when hope and despair, are gates upon it hinges.

Where are you?” She asked. “I have been searching all my life.” “Stop looking for me,” Love replied, “and I will find you.

The second I tried to tell myself I wasn’t in love was the moment I realized I was.

If a boy ever says, you remind me of someone–don’t fall in love with him. You will never be anything more than second best.

A book travels for days, for years, sometimes for centuries to meet you at an exact point in time.

There are things I miss that I shouldn’t, and things I don’t that I should. Sometimes we want what we couldn’t, sometimes we love what we could.

One day you meet someone and for some inexplicable reason, you feel more connected to this stranger than anyone else.

I love you, I do – you have my word. You have all my words.

You know, missing someone can sometimes be the best thing for a writer.

Do you remember the song that was playing the night we met? No, but I remember every song I have heard since you left.

An enlightened ruler doesnot worry about people not knowing him; he worriesabout not knowing people.

Take me back to the evergreen trees; to the sunlight through the leaves, the bending ferns and fronds. The pitter of the rain, the smooth rocks sleeping under moss. Take me back to the life I know before this body.

I know I haven’t told you, but I also know, that you’ve felt my love.

Of all the languages I have ever known, the language of the heart is the easiest and toughest.

What you need to know is very little, but to know that little takes very very much.

The self is known to every one but not clearly. You always exist.

I dunno, around 11th grade, 12th grade I was just like “yeah. This is something I want to do”. I was always known; I was always the rapper.

The Seeker himself becomes the knower. The thing to be known is already there. There is nothing to be known afresh. More-over there are no two things. There is only the seer, the knower.