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

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.

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.

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

Poetry is dangerous.

The bigger your dreams, the taller the mountains, the more tempestuous the waters you have to cross.

You cannot always get the validation from others, even from the people you love.

Let those lovers come to you healed. They are not your project to fix.

It is when faced with adversity that we get to know what we are made up of, what we are capable of doing, and who we truly are.

As for rosemary, I let it run all over my garden walls, not only because my bees love it but because it is the herb sacred to remembrance and to friendship, whence a sprig of it hath a dumb language.

The language of love is the language of humility or humbleness.

He brought his food with him, he brought his language with him, he never spoke a word of English.

Of all the languages I have ever known, the language of the heart is the easiest and toughest.

Speaking the language of scars, stars and wildfires feel lonely, till the time someone holds your hands and talks the same.

Silence is never-ending speech. In silence one is in intimate contact with the surroundings. Language is only a medium for communicating one’s thoughts to another. Silence is ever speaking.

Epigrams need no crier, but are content with their own tongue.

When one remains without thinking one understands another by means of the universal language of Silence.