I write because the security of your love allows me to develop my craft without concerning myself with trivialities — as if your love could be any more complete. But I write, in the first place,because of you, my muse. I write for your green eyes to glance at my humble words and for the pleasure of hearing you utter them.

To see her is to be seduced by her.

Your love opened up a whole world that no amount of books or wisdom could ever do.

Sometimes, when inspiration runs dry, I drink classical music until my words spill out.

All I need to dois place my pen against paperand your lovewrites for me.

She was in awe of all his work. 'How do you do it?" she asked.He smiled and said, 'By loving you.

I only wrote prose before I met you. My musings were superfluous and serious as well. But now the words dance with me. I sing with them and we create poetry.

I do not write about love as if I have invented it. I write about love because thoughts of you inspire self-forgetfulness. And because writing about you gives birth to a star. These stars sit inside me where there was once darkness.