“Even the pages I ink crave your name.”

Live up to what seems the best, not what people tell you is the best.

Tell me you are not aching, tell me you’re pretending.

Respect your body, it’s a home to be thankful for.

Those pages became the ocean I left my traces on.

There always will be people to put you down, make sure there always is your desire to stay strong.

It’s good to give up on some things, sometimes it lets you free.

Let your love consume you.

There’s another part of me which resists you, which loves me.

Remind yourself that you ended a chapter to start a new one not to re-read the previous one.

I need a house, full of books, devoid of heartaches.

People don’t last, their actions say the lasting words for them.

As far as possible, let’s meet beyond the stars.

Let me know you to the core, let me be sweet to the sour.

I wish I could go back in time, not to do it all over again but just to be there for myself.

Filled with sorrow yet empty.

It feels ironic when you wake up one day and try to unlove a person you dreamed of waking up with.

The poet lights the light and fades away. But the light goes on and on.

My idea of a writer: someone interested in everything.

The nature of rumor is well known to all. It was your own poet who said: ‘Rumor, an evil surpassing all evils in speed.’

In ‘life,’ I don’t want to be reduced to my work. In ‘work,’ I don’t want to be reduced to my life.

You will never be alone with a poet in your pocket.

It is bad taste for a poet to be coarse and hairy.

These impossible women! How they do get around us! The poet was right: can’t live with them, or without them!

Poets are always taking the weather so personally. They’re always sticking their emotions in things that have no emotions.