“Poetry is a home, a home with joy.”

Seek you in me in your darkest times.

Sky; a map of constellations intertwined with dark and light.

Horizon; where lovers entwine like they did alluring, spellbinding – what an affinity they have.

You gave me the courage to rise but my darling robin why did you fly leaving me behind these four walls all alone?

To those who say self-love is selfish, you are either hunted or haunted.

Poetry is a feeling, a feeling of healing.

It’s unconditional; their chemistry is unconditional – forever.

Poetry is a pleasure to your pressure.

I never understood flowers until I met you.

Fall is the rise.

At times being oblivious keeps me more alive in this chaos.

You hit the soft spot of me making my heart skip a beat.

You are my tamed fire in the wind.

No pain no worries only the beating of our hearts.

If I had wings and could fly I’d fly all seas to see your unseen beauty amid the whispers of love.

Everything seems to be a design – a mixture of prejudice and injustice – the limbo of silence.

Politicians also have no leisure, because they are always aiming at something beyond political life itself, power and glory, or happiness.

I am happy to be alive, as long as I can paint.

I sort of do what I say and say what I do which I’m happy with because it makes my life real easy.

Arrogance is truly the child of impiety, but from health of soul comes happiness, dear to all, much prayed for.

I like to make people feel happy and superior in their reaction towards my appearance.

He’s one fry short of a Happy Meal.

If you want to live a happy life, tie it to a goal, not to people or things.

Happiness isn’t a constant. You get fleeting glimpses. You have to fight for those moments, but they make it all worth it.