Your eyelashes will write on my heart the poem that could never come from the pen of a poet.
When the remedy you have offered only increases the disease, then leave him who will not be cured, and tell your story to someone who seeks the truth.
Be occupied, then, with what you really value and let the thief take something else.
Only the soul knows what love is.
Even when tied in a thousand knots, the string is still but one.
In the blackest of your moments, wait with no fear.