As is a tale, so is life; not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters.

She had not known the weight until she felt the freedom.

I prefer the truth, even if it hurts.

In solitude, as I embrace your memories, I realise that it has been awhile since I have died.

The grief you left me with is more loyal than you.

The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of.

The more profound your awareness, the deeper your suffering.

On some nights I still believe that a car with the gas needle on empty can run about fifty more miles if you have the right music very loud on the radio.

And the sun rose from her tender heart.

It's strange talking about yourself.
You think you know yourself, but you don't.

If my life were a red rose petal,
I would have pinned it to your hair.

We went too far in our thinking and forgot that destinies are written.

Your eyes, a war I do not mind dying in.

When you light a candle, you also cast a shadow.

In the darkest times, that's where you'll find your greatest strength.

Passion creates, addiction consumes.

I love that the phrase is "in love" like love is a place. Like somewhere you could be.

In the era of calamities, you're a moment of peace.

Her beauty was a longing that sparked verses.
Her eyes concealed a sorrow bound to someone's love.

All your rage is to conceal a fragile heart.

Today once again on the thread of my sorrows, I have strung the flowers of your memory.