“When I’m an old man, I don’t want to count the years, we forgot to share.”

Oh what we see when we finally stop looking.

I would rather wear honest tears than the most beautiful and elaborately faked smile.

Lay down your roots now, let them wrap tight around mine, sink deep in the soil.

Wherever I am, whatever I am doing, you are in it all.

I stare at your lips and fall in love with the way they form what you say.

Was I born patient or have the years of waiting taught me to be?

All we can control in this silly and wildly perfect life is the love that we choose to give out without any regard to ever getting it back in return.

I would rather hurt, and walk through the flames you leave, than never feel you.

If flowers can grow through blankets of melting snow, there is hope for me too.

Do you think it possible that some people are born to give more love than they will ever get back in return?

The morning coffee reminds me of your waking I stir to find you.

I am a sinking ship made of unsinkable parts.

I am made of more; More than tears, more than heartache, More than all of this.

I would be lying if I said there were not times that I am an earthquake contained inside this skin.

If you give me home I will give you adventure. It’s both we can have.

Find my hand in the darkness and if we cannot find the light, we will always make our own.

People have often told me that one of their strongest childhood memories is the scent of their grandmother’s house.

He threw a lot of strikes, worked it inside and out, threw breaking balls for strikes behind in the count.

I ache with everything in me to make it count, so that when I finally cross the finish line, I’ll hear the words, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant.

Whenever my patient begins to count the carriages in her funeral procession I subtract 50 per cent from the curative power of medicines.

Music is a hidden arithmetic exercise of the soul, which does not know that it is counting.

Unless you count the political backdrop, which in any case is a familiar one to many international readers

You can always count on the New York Times to cut your legs off.

No amount of reading or memorizing will make you successful in life. It is the understanding and application of wise thought which counts.