“My eyes saw you, but damn, did my soul feel you.”

In love with September’s sun the season that begins all witchy things and stirs the soul.

It’s her black wings that make her beautiful.

I was born to chase peace and love wild things. I was born a beautiful bohemian paradox.

The world needs more fierce warriors who are soft and kind.

He is the sun melting the snow in my heart.

I know a beautiful soul when I feel one. The empath in me honors the authentic in you.

Once our souls collided and caught fire, there was no turning back.

She was the night, in love with the stars, always chasing the moon.

Words alone mean little. Show me your eyes; that’s where I’ll decipher your truth from your lies.

Undress my soul one petal at a time.

She can be dainty and still have claws. She can be sweet and still make fire. That’s her magic.

I think my soul was born with wings; it’s always restless, it won’t sit still.

When I told you to ruin me I wasn’t referring to my heart.

My soul is wild but my heart is loyal and true.

Some people help you see the world differently, those are my kind of people.

I have no room for monsters and cowards claiming to be something they’re not, who lie to get what they want.

It is He who is revealed in every face, sought in every sign, gazed upon by every eye, worshipped in every object of worship, and pursued in the unseen and the visible. Not a single one of His creatures can fail to find Him in its primordial and original nature.

Nothing is more dangerous than to be blinded by prosperity.

People say that eyes are windows to the soul.

Attention to detail is crucial in my roles as a real estate developer and principal of a lifestyle brand. Fine jewelry is especially intricate and requires a very well trained eye.

Creativity is a wild mind and a disciplined eye.

In my mind’s eye, I visualize how a particular… sight and feeling will appear on a print. If it excites me, there is a good chance it will make a good photograph. It is an intuitive sense, an ability that comes from a lot of practice.

Summer came and summer went and I never saw your eyes again.

I can’t take the look in your eyes of hurt I can’t help.