As joy dwindles with the yearsI wistfully recallWhen the christmas treeLooked ten feet tallAnd the presents under itSeemed endless And more Than mere wrapping paper.

Under a night’s skyFilled with a hundred billion starsIs it so crazy to believeOur paths were destined to cross?

What a cruel irony it is, that we get to choose our thoughts but not our feelings.

You are my drug of choiceI know you’re no good for meAnd though I swear my lipsWill never touch you againHere we are, here we are.

Sometimes it feels like even ifEvery inch of my skin was touching yoursI still wouldn’t be close enough to you.

Love gives the best of highsBut also the worst of hangovers.

Fate is the cruelest of masters, takingLife when it pleases or at random, handingRigged decks to whom it pleases, cheatingAll alike and none the wiser, takingEverything away from those with nothing.

I wish I could see butterflies burst from cocoonsWithout tempering my amazementKnowing all beauty eventually dies.

As artists, we create the beautyWe are too afraid to live outAnd search, but always fall just shyOf finding what life is about.

Question marks are met with periodsBy people full of arroganceThey have every answer, nothing mysteriousAnd yet they have no evidence.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't want youI'd be lying if I said I didn't wish you were mineThe truth is, you stole my heart from afarThe truth is, you still have it.

As anyone who's ever taken an Ethiopian bus knows, there is an unwritten rule that the windows must remain firmly closed.

All dreams have to come to an end.

Did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there..

There is hardly a pioneer's hut which does not contain a few odd volumes of Shakespeare. I remember reading the feudal drama of Henry V for the first time in a log cabin.

I would never call a neighbor an enemy. But I would request the neighbor to be a good neighbor, to see that the neighbor's interest is a stable prosperous neighbor, a neighbor that is doing well.

Train. Say your prayers. Eat your vitamins.

Literature has done great work for feminism - writing and reading are a practice of empathy - and great literature will continue to do so.

There is no quality I would rather have, and be thought to have, than gratitude. For it is not only the greatest virtue, but is the mother of all the rest.

It's nice to know that what you're doing is being read and enjoyed by a good deal of people.

I'm convinced that you never have to give up liberties to be safe. I think you're less safe when you give up your liberties.