I burned all our bridges - not knowing that love knows how to swim.

A second chance will never be able to heal the wound of the first one.

We were never supposed to be in love; for everything that exists inside a heart eventually dies.

Her love was like lavender, delicate and melancholy.

The right way to admire something is to love it unconditionally.

While we keep on dancingour souls delicately embrace.

My love dances quietly, so it does not wake the memories of you.

And I kept each piece that the night offered me -for the night was full of you.

Love is too much for our generation that’s why it dies inside our hands but blooms at our feet.

For the ink is the same each day -but the words are blooming in colours no one has ever seen -for my words are flowers, and your love is a garden.

We’ve all carried too much;maybe that’s why, when we lay down something, it feels like everything is leaving, and yet - too much remains.

You can not break my heart -and call the lines you write on art.

There is something tragic within one's love.

A reverie is one soul’s river;but a word is one heart’s vein.

And even of his rosesonly thorns remained.

Pain changes the way we love.

There is nothing more painful in this world,than to be in love with something that can never be.

And we will always believe in love for pain only touches the feeling yet never conquers the heart.

I used to paint the world goldenwhile drowning inside the silver of your words.

The lights are goneyet your absence makeseven the darkness tremble -for nothing feels as empty as a placewithout you.

And if everything we love is considered art then our love is the greatest masterpiece.

I touched each staryou collected for me in vain;Only to see my sky fade inside the glimmer of a dream.

The ink I write with is borrowed from the stars - too blue to be the sky and too dark to be its night.

While others feared the ghosts of the past - she fell in love with them.

You have to be the right one -because everything else feels so wrong without you.

I kept every letter - only to be remembered of the wrong one’s words can cause (to the heart).

Just in case you love me -I will wait here;but not forever.

My love is so fragile; and yet it chooses your hands to bloom.

Some souls are too broken to return to the stars they once belonged to.

Those deserted lines of love and pain kept your love wandering - and by that alive - so that one day some restless thought would stumble upon your eternity.

Some break their hearts themselvesonly to be healed of the wrong love faster.

Don't ever let the scars on your heart define the way you love. 

Time means nothing when you are in love.

You can only hold onto a soul forever when you touched it with all your heart.

You can't keep away the waves from the one shore they fell in love with; they will return each day, carrying the same hope.

Sometimes we destroy a love with the selfish idea of being not loved good enough.

The fear of falling for the wrong one only prevents you to grow wings for the right love. 

The most delicate suffering I ever felt was when I got lost in the idea of loving someone too much.

A sea of unspoken words; waiting for a reason to meet the shore for the first time.

Love is a delicate suffering.

Some hearts will never burn as bright as the memories do.

I missed so many chances to meet the right oneby missing you too much.

The most beautiful solitude I ever feltwas when I got lost in something I once loved.

Let your love bleed all over those pages; in the end, all it can be is a work of art (- but never a mistake).

To love means to be willing to give everything of yourself away; and to be loved means to never find yourself in a situation where you truly need to lose yourself.

Melancholy skies and empty fields of goldgrey clouds and emerald days our love in piecescaptured only by poems (of mine).

I can be whoever the world wants me to be - so I decided to be a scandal: being completely myself.

Art makes something out of everything - yet it does not make everybody an artist.

Life is too short to not write something great at least once.

The triviality of the world becomes more important after realising ones own existence.

One mans scandal is the beginning of the morality of others.

We can not suffer while admiring something.

We can not suffer while loving something deeply.

To create a masterpiece means to take all seriousness out of life and into one’s art instead.

Writing is a kind of prison - always knowing why you’re there yet never knowing where to go after the sentence.

Art is craving the soul - that is why artists never go to heaven.

Sometimes life feels like a painting that is drained of all its colours until the artists soul is revealed.

Beautiful art is the cause of forgivable scandal.

To have everything one wishes for never satisfies oneself. It is the thought of having just enough of everything that leads to happiness without having anything.

Life is cursed with the absence of importance - sometimes only triviality can cure it.

The only high class tragedy is, to die with another reputation than one is born with (- or even worse: to build its own).

All imitation is useless when it does not cause the subject to love the imitation more than its original.

The secret of morality is to preach about it long enough, until everybody believes it - and to stop before you do yourself.

Irrationality is the absence of ones mind and the consciousness of all feelings.

Love keeps the most of ones heart to itself - so it is important to remember oneself while writing to another about it.

Irrationality is the absolute absence of ones mind and the full consciousness of every feeling.

How magnificent a lifetime feels once it is held together by something that is worth loving forever.

Time stood still, once I first met you. And after you left meevery second began to hurt... for I was trapped inside our eternity.

We die by loving something that the world created.

Change is beautiful inside a kind of world made out of constant

We die daily by trying to love something that the world created.

My only mistake was that I loved simple things too muchand cared not enough for the difficult ones. (that is what maybe broke the world and myself).

My end is a curve of infinite love - a way of suffering while feeling deeply loved.

The entire world is breakable, you only feel that once you fall in love with something in it.

We always hide something of ourselves whenever we create something.

You can not create something without love and expect it to be great.

We always hide our souls whenever we create something that cherishes the heart.

I can not be a part of myself -for everything that creates my soul incompletes my heart.

And the more I understood about love, the more I fell out of it.