“I will feel whatever the fuck I want to feel.”

My god! this love it will make a fool out of us all.

The voices in your head are lying, i tell you this world never stopped you from flying.

So, what ruined you? -hope.

There is a wild in you which thrives in places and on days, when, even the sun in you couldn’t survive.

Hope has never looked the same twice. Pain has never looked the same twice. Love has never looked the same twice.

I remember my mother whispering me every night, if you don’t hold that little light inside you, the universe will let go off the hold of you.

Isn’t this loneliness a strange poetry? you want everyone to read, but you are never willing to write it down.

And nothing that will be touched, even with the tiniest of love, shall continue to live the same.

We are what this world refuse to carry. So we carry ourselves so we carry ourselves so we carry ourselves.

And that is how time heals, not by erasing but by blurring all the memories.

I am not home for somebody else’s trauma.

Too much of what I write takes me back to you.

Even if you look for peace in the places you won the war, you will not find any.

I am trying to talk about love without biting my tongue.

Whatever I feel is not a choice, but dwelling on it is, so I stand up and walk and walk and walk a w a y.

She is the old school hard love, your modern brittle love can’t afford to carry.

I hate and love. And why, perhaps you’ll ask. I don’t know: but I feel, and I’m tormented.

Truth exists for the wise, beauty for the feeling heart.

There’s a plaque on our wall that says we’ve sold over 65 million albums, and I don’t feel I’ve accomplished anything. I feel like I’m just getting started.

I feel the need to reaffirm all of it, the whole unhappy territory and all the things loved and unloveable in it, for it is all part of me.

What plays the mischief with the truth is that men will insist upon the universal application of a temporary feeling or opinion.

What is prejudice? An opinion, which is not based upon reason; a judgment, without having heard the argument; a feeling, without being able to trace from whence it came.

As for me, I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts.

I’m not sure what the future holds but I do know that I’m going to be positive and not wake up feeling desperate. As my dad said ‘Nic, it is what it is, it’s not what it should have been, not what it could have been, it is what it is.’