She strived for perfection. She loved setting herself tasks, sometimes impossible ones, to prove to her heart that underneath every seemingly ugly thing there was something beautiful inside.

Every single ordinary person has an extraordinary story.

Time cant be given. But it can be shared.

She had been given a wonderful gift: life. Sometimes it was cruelly taken away too soon, but it's what you did with it that counted, not how long it lasted.

Always a chancer, always lucky, he'd fall into a river and come out dry, with fish in his pockets.

This love thing awakened a group of slumbering senses in my body that I never even knew existed.

Alone because love was one of those feelings that you could never have control of. And she needed to be in control. She had loved before, had been loved, had tasted what it was to dream, and had felt what it was to dance on air. She had also learned what it was to cruelly land back on the earth with a thud.