poetry

"When soul meets soul on lovers' lips."

"To write poetry and to commit suicide, apparently so contradictory, had really been the same, attempts at escape."

"My candle burns at both ends;It will not last the night;But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—It gives a lovely light!"

"Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,So do our minutes hasten to their end;Each changing place with that which goes before,In sequent toil all forwards do contend."

"The ambitions are wake up, breathe, keep breathing."

"Sometimes you lose a battle. But mischief always wins the war"

"I wanted all thingsTo seem to make some sense,So we could all be happy, yes,Instead of tense.And I made up liesSo that they all fit nice,And I made this sad worldA par-a-dise."

"Art is long, and Time is fleeting."

"Forgive, O Lord, my little jokes on TheeAnd I'll forgive Thy great big one on me."

"As it has been said:Love and a coughcannot be concealed.Even a small cough.Even a small love."

"Exhaust the little moment. Soon it dies.And be it gash or gold it will not comeAgain in this identical disguise."

"As the future ripens in the past,so the past rots in the future --a terrible festival of dead leaves."

"Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted"

"This cruel age has deflected me,like a river from this course.Strayed from its familiar shores,my changeling life has flowedinto a sister channel.How many spectacles I've missed:the curtain rising without me,and falling too. How many friendsI never had the chance to meet."

"The wind may be invisible, but it’s colored by memories of you, as you gently blew into my life, adding motion and emotion to my still-beating heart. I feel you here with me, even though I'm all alone. Time is only measured now by then seconds since you've gone, and losing you is as painful as running a faucet on a bloody wound.-Jarod Kintz and Crystal Woods"

"Love is a game of tic-tac-toe,constantly waitingfor the next x or o."

"That's not a run in your stocking, it's a hand on your leg."

"To me, fair friend, you never can be old,For as you were when first your eye I ey'd, Such seems your beauty still."

"I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; Garlands from window to window; Golden chains from star to star ... And I dance."

"Conscience is no more than the dead speaking to us."