I used to read the myths of love Now I have become the mythical lover

I want a trouble-maker for a lover, Blood spiller, blood drinker, a heart of flame, Who quarrels with the sky and fights with fate, Who burns like fire on the rushing sea.

If all the harps in the world were burned down, still inside the heart there will be hidden music playing.

The eye goes blind when it only wants to see why.

Whenever you are alone, remind yourself that God has sent everyone else away so that there is only you and Him.

There's hidden sweetness in the stomach's emptiness.

Pain is a treasure, for it contains mercies.