You marry the day you realize the human defects of your love.

Your strength is soft, indirect, delicate, tender, womanly. But it is strength just the same.

Life is what we make it, always has been, always will be...including our perception. Of it

Age does not protect you from love. But love, to some extent, protects you from age.

You carry away with you a reflection of me, a part of me. I dreamed you; I wished for your existence. You will always be a part of my life. If I love you, it must be because we shared, at some moment, the same imaginings, the same madness, the same stage.

I have no brakes on...analysis is for those who are paralyzed by life.

I have this weird obsession about buying books and looking at them with a smile, even if I won't read them soon. At least they are mine now.