“We taste and feel and see the truth. We do not reason ourselves into it.”

But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

There is another world, but it is in this one.

Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World! You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled. Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing.

What can be explained is not poetry.

The winds that awakened the stars Are blowing through my blood.

Think where man’s glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.

And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.

It seems to me that love, if it is fine, is essentially a discipline.

Love is created and preserved by intellectual analysis, for we love only that which is unique, and it belongs to contemplation, not to action, for we would not change that which we love.

In dreams begins responsibility.

If what I say resonates with you, it’s merely because we’re branches of the same tree.

When two close kindred meet, What better than call a dance?

It seems to me that true love is a discipline.

The tragedy of sexual intercourse is the perpetual virginity of the soul.

only an aching heart Conceives a changeless work of art.

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold.

Never apologize for what you feel. It’s like being sorry for being real.

I feel like I’m small and mighty and pack a powerful punch, just like Tide PODS.

Everyone, in all walks of life, regardless of his professional occupation should feel concerned and play an active role to solve such problems which affect mankind.

I don’t think there is anything wrong in earning money from the sport you love. If you work hard and get benefits from it, there is no harm. The day you feel that you are not working hard and are only looking at the benefits, that’s where the problem is.

Is it a boon or curse I wonder; to feel another’s pain so much to consider it my own? To moan another’s funeral as if it were my own?

A million feelings. A thousand thoughts. A hundred memories. All for one person.

What if last time felt so beautiful simply because it actually was our last time?

How does it feel to have everything and still suffer from the lack of it? I have all the love in me, but without yours it means nothing at all.