“It was a question I had worn on my lips for days - like a loose thread on my favourite sweater I couldn't resist pulling - despite knowing it could all unravel around me. 

"Do you love me?" I ask.

In your hesitation I found my answer.” 

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 “What was it like to love him? Asked Gratitude. 

It was like being exhumed, I answered, and brought to life in a flash of brilliance.

What was it like to be loved in return? Asked Joy. 

It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness, I replied. To be heard after a lifetime of silence. 

What was it like to lose him? Asked Sorrow. There was a long pause before I responded: 

It was like hearing every goodbye ever said to me—said all at once.” 

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 “I don’t know how you are so familiar to me—or why it feels less like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before—in another time, a different place, some other existence.” 

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“In her eyes, the sadness sings—of one who was destined, for better things.”  

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“We had no ending, no said goodbye.
For all my life, I'll wonder why.”  

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"When two souls fall in love, there is nothing else but the yearning to be close to the other. The presence that is felt through a hand held, a voice heard, or a smile seen.
Souls do not have calendars or clocks, nor do they understand the notion of time or distance. They only know it feels right to be with one another.
This is the reason why you miss someone so much when they are not there— even if they are only in the very next room. Your soul only feels their absence— it doesn’t realize the separation is temporary.”  

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“When words run dry, 

he does not try, 

nor do I. 

We are on par. 

He just is,  

I just am 

and we just are”  

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“Can I ask you something? 

Anything.

Why is it every time we say goodnight, it feels like goodbye?” 

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“Do you remember the song that was playing the night we met? No, but I remember every song I have heard since you left.” 

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“I don't think all writers are sad, she said. I think it's the other way around- all sad people write.” 

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“But it was now time for her to go away—to find someone who could show her what happiness was.” 

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 "I know that I don't own you,  

And perhaps I never will, 

So anger when you're with her, 

I have no right to feel 

I know that you don't owe me, 

And I shouldn't ask for more; 

I shouldn't feel so let down, 

All the times when you don't call 

What I feel—I should show you, 

So when you're around I won't; 

I know I have no right to feel it 

but it doesn't mean I don't.” 

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“I still search for you in crowds, in empty fields and soaring clouds. In city lights and passing cars, on winding roads and wishing stars.” 

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“Do you know what it is like, to lie in bed awake; with thoughts to haunt you every night, of all your past mistakes?
Knowing sleep will set it right - if you were not to wake.” 

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“Before the tears that tore us, when our history was before us.” 

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 “Letting him go;
There is a particular kind of suffering to be experienced when you love something greater than yourself. A tender sacrifice. Like the pained silence felt in the lost song of a mermaid; or the bent and broken feet of a dancing ballerina. It is in every considered step I am taking in the opposite direction of you.” 

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"What is she like? 

I was told—she is a melancholy soul.
She is like the sun to the night; 

A momentary gold.
A star when dimmed by dawning light; 

The flicker of a candle blown.
A lonely kite lost in flight—someone once had flown.”

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“Shrinking in a corner, 

pressed into the wall; 

do they know I'm present, 

am I here at all?

Is there a written rule book, 

that tells you how to be—all the right things to talk about—that everyone has but me?

Slowly I am withering—a flowered deprived of sun; 

longing to belong to—somewhere or someone.”