“But dear, even dandelions are viewed as weeds in a rose garden.”

I am powerless in silencing the deafening thunder in my heart.

Someone once told me, wherever you are, whatever you do, always keep on upgrading yourself.

Your faults are your wounds. And I don’t feel any anger at all. What I feel, is compassion.

Go where you are celebrated, somewhere where the sun you carry in you will be seen and fully embraced by those who recognize it.

I will not allow myself to lose the child in me.

What a sight of storm you are as a lie beside me in your deep, peaceful slumber.

Love, grief, and the complexity of being human are the driving forces for every artistic revolution.

Its neither politics or religion. Music is the universal love language.

May I stay soft and delicate in this world meant to draw out the brute in me.

We forget that our parents were children, too. Let’s get to know them as little ones. Perhaps we’ll find the answer why they behave now the way they do.

I am a moth madly captivated by the fire in you.

Why fight against the current if I would only drown in it?

Why bloom in hell when you are not a flower conceived in there.

Your tongue is too powerful that it can make a garden out of me. And it can also shred and tear apart the flowers within.

Don’t go out dating others just because you feel empty or because you want to feel alive. You do it for the right reason.

The deeper the pain that you have gone through, the more compassion you are capable of feeling.

We can either chase love, or we become what we love.

No nation was ever so virtuous as each believes itself, and none was ever so wicked as each believes the other.

Grief visits us all differently but at the core – it rots us a little.

What power would hell have if those imprisoned here would not be able to dream of heaven?

Stories may well be lies, but they are good lies that say true things, and which can sometimes pay the rent.

How much good inside a day? Depends on how good you live ’em. How much love inside a friend? Depends on how much you give ’em.

In civilizations without ships, dreams dry up, espionage takes the place of adventure and the police take the place of corsairs.

Loneliness breeds self-love.