“You have belonged better in your own arms than in anyone else’s. Remember you are the softest love you will ever have.”

If you think the value of a woman is only in the curve of her hips and the shape of her breasts, you do not understand how to read beneath her jagged lines, the sacred geometry that make up her glorious heart and her beautiful mind.

Lies are often truth-shaped. They’re only containers you must turn inside out and shake till the truth tumbles out, wide eyed and confused, blinking in a light it never thought it would see.

Sometimes, you are going to miss a person who was an almost to you. And feel sad because there is no name for that feeling.

Perfection in imperfection. Someone whose flaws work well with yours. Infuse modern love with the hues of older romance. An agency that offers something real in a world that was increasingly becoming plastic.

I used to only pick up a pen for myself but now I pick one up for you too. Is there such a thing as an unselfish love poem? I don’t know, but I’m trying.

You see, there can be no life without death.

I wonder how I have carried so many regrets without even realising they were there.

If we had no fears to master, how else would we grow?

Forgiveness is easier to give to others than to yourself. But I am slowly learning.

I don’t know how to love people well yet. But I know I can love you the way you deserve, if you let me.

Even with the antidepressants, the grief seeped through the dangerous cracks in the scaffolding holding me up.

Without heartache there are no lessons to gain.

And power, power was so much more important than beauty ever could be.

Remind ourselves that grief may feel longer and more poignant than happiness but it still has an ending.

Perhaps he should have paid attention to the snakes coiled inside me waiting to strike.

It’s how I learn there are a multitude of ways to say I love you. For so many you don’t have to use words at all.

Allow your softest sides to show.

A soft lover and a wild wanderer.

And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.

It was the voice of mad seas, roaring immense, That shattered your infant breast, too soft, too human.

I hope I make it a little softer here for someone.

If trying harder doesn’t work, try softer.

You are such a wild and soft thing.

Of the many smells of Athens two seem to me the most characteristic – that of garlic, bold and deadly like acetylene gas. and that of dust, soft and warm and caressing like tweed.