“Women are beautiful. But some are made of hell.”

He opened her cages, and freed the things inside.

I’m wrong but I’m real.

Break me. Until there’s nothing left and I’ll be free.

She’s no rose. But in her I see the beauty of thorns.

There’s this thing that hurts inside me all the time. Because I know what’s coming.

Lets die. Alone. Like we always do.

Failures often become art. And art can never fail.

Summer looks the same. But last summer she loved me.

Poems are a nice way of saying fuck you.

Always falling but not for anything.

We search for meaning. And destroy it.

She was simple. Like a poem, and always dressed in sunshine.

She was an artist on top of me, and soaked my sheets with poetry.

A lot of ugly people hide behind beautiful eyes. A lot of things are only lies.

I never drink in the morning. Mornings are for drugs.

She could be anything. But she’s just a girl with a broken heart.

The pretty girl is always right.

It’s nice to be one of the most beautiful people.

To grow in unconditional love and in beauty is spirituality.

Honesty has a beautiful and refreshing simplicity about it. No ulterior motives. No hidden meanings. An absence of hypocrisy, duplicity, political games, and verbal superficiality. As honesty and real integrity characterize our lives, there will be no need to manipulate others.

The stronger the winds, the deeper the roots, and the longer the winds, the more beautiful the tree.

I eat only simple Indian home food – sabzi, roti, dal, chawal, ghee. There are so many benefits of having ghee. My grandmother is 84 and she is still fit and looks beautiful.

Nothing beautiful happens without struggle.

A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.