Tarzan-like men are my weakness, apparently.

I am as wrapped up in her as a vine that clings to a tree seeking for sustenance. She's tied me to her for eternity. She's my home. She's my reason for being. To win and hold her heart is my only purpose.

I don’t mind being alone either. The only problem is that if you’re always alone, you get lonely.

We throw away what we could have been and waste our opportunities. We each have a purpose, a destiny, and to realize it, we must reach beyond what we think we are capable of.

Your heart knows. Your soul remembers.

Were you always such a stubborn, blind, obtuse girl?" "Are you calling me stupid?" "Yes, but in a more poetic way!" "Well, here's a poem for you. Get lost!

Home they brought her warrior dead: She nor swooned, nor uttered cry: All her maidens, watching, said, 'She must weep or she will die.' Then they praised him, soft and low, Called him worthy to be loved, Truest friend and noblest foe; Yet she neither spoke nor moved. Stole a maiden from her place, Lightly to the warrior stepped, Took the face-cloth from the face; Yet she neither moved nor wept. Rose a nurse of ninety years, Set his child upon her knee- Like summer tempest came her tears- 'Sweet my child, I live for thee.' -Alfred Lord Tennyson