“The charm in her laughter covered the depth of her tears.”

How much sadness can you contain inside your heart? How much more darling, till it gets enough?

You tell me its going to be okay, tell me, is it really what you believe? Or is it a mere illusion you continue to paint for me.

Do we break our own heart too? Tell me, don’t we all do? Everytime you lock it up, ignoring what it tells you, doesn’t it break a little too?

She used kindness as her weapon to win the battles agaisnst cruelty.

There are galaxies inside of me for each emotion I feel. One for each; happiness, anger, sadness and one is hollow, for that too, is sometimes how I feel.

Oh moonlight, continue to shine on me. As you light up the sky, maybe some peace will come to me.

You can never know if something is wrong with her because she always acts right.

Some heartahes, you just have to make peace with.

I would rather shoot my arrows than keep them in my bow, I would rather risk it all than risk nothing at all.

Her smile faded as the world erased it.

She drank up the moonlight to make her soul shine.

Admist the darkness, she tried to hold on to her yellow laughter.

You tell me I will end up where I’m meant to be. So I ask you, Do I have the rights to be disappointed in that destiny?

Is this a parting or are you hoping to meet again? Is this really goodbye, or are you still wanting to cross paths again?

She wore courage to cover her melancholy, Dear Heart, What is this tragedy?

Today, the sky seems a little more blue. Now I don’t feel as lonely without you.

Charm is the great English blight. It does not exist outside these damp islands. It spots and kills anything it touches. It kills love; it kills art; I greatly fear, my dear Charles, it has killed you.

What a charming reconciler and peacemaker money is!

Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds.

Stay is a charming word in a friend’s vocabulary.

Naivete in grownups is often charming; but when coupled with vanity it is indistinguishable from stupidity.

There is a charm in making a stew, to the unaccustomed cook, from the excitement of wondering what the result will be, and whether any flavour save that of onions will survive the competition in the mixture.

But time, it is like charm. You never have as much as you think.

But time, it is like charm. You never have as much as you think.