“A war is still a war even if it is inside your head, did you know this?”

You have to choose between freedom and comfort. You choose freedom. Of course you choose freedom.

I am so hungry for someone to love me.

And often when she finds herself missing him, missing the good moments with him, she whispers to herself, ‘The absence of you has taught me how to love myself. So thank you, my darling, my dearest.

We do not abandon those who truly accept us for who we are, and if you could save all the people who accepted you completely, wouldn’t you go back to save them too?

Survival is ugly. Healing is messy. Self-love is complicated. It is your hardest days as much as your best days that help you grow. All of this is part of being human.

Knowledge after all is a dark art.

If two Gods can love each other with no objection from the divine or the universe, who are mortals to tell other mortals who they can and cannot love?

But I am both nightmare and sin.

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?

Time, as is well known, sometimes flies like a bird and sometimes crawls like a worm, but human beings are generally particularly happy when they don’t notice whether it’s passing quickly or slowly.

If I get to know somebody, I’ll open up, but other than that I like to sit back and observe things.

I hate and I love. And if you ask me how, I do not know: I only feel it, and I am torn in two.

I hate and love. And why, perhaps you’ll ask. I don’t know: but I feel, and I’m tormented.

To know how to grow old is the master work of wisdom, and one of the most difficult chapters in the great art of living.

I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I’ll go to it laughing.

There is one knows not what sweet mystery about this sea, whose gently awful stirrings seem to speak of some hidden soul beneath.

I knew one thing. I did not want to be a mommy like mommy.