Angels should never be exposed to the dire darkness of despair in the tunnel of cosmic nothingness, and although I never believed such maddening thoughts; I couldn't help but feel spiritual in her presence.

All love is alike, knowing no season, sun, or clime, but that damn sun does represent lovers’ ever-changing time. Why does it rise to show lovers nothing lasts? Does it not see those lovers and think, ‘I can eclipse and darken them with a wink. I could kill all love by rising and sending them to their forlorn pasts. I can make them for each other pine, and wait and wait as I rise and set. HA! Buffoons, they are all mine. And every time I shine they owe me a debt.

The silent steps of lovers walking hand-in-hand on Danish, impossible-to-pronounce streets resound through me. Their voices drone through the night in strange volumes under those little planted trees and pass like the incomprehensible gibberish of a forgotten dream.

A perfect example, in matters of life and death, of love and passion, of choice or destiny; options decrease to a singular course.

His studies were always second to Beatrice. He would've said everything was second to Beatrice but the flowery metaphors and literary devices can only stretch so far and for so many characters.

Here… our failures are known to every Tom Dick and Harry while our successes fall only on deaf ears. It’s death, hostile civilians, greedy politicians, and more death, and forget about love. You could be here now and across the world in 11 minutes. If you're lucky you’ll be blown to the next world in much less than 11 seconds.

How do we rid ourselves of romantic sentiments we know to be illusory without invoking apathy or becoming cold from the rest of this lost race? Answer unknown.

Philosophy demands knowledge, ignorance demands happiness, love demands both.

Hawks with broken wings; lions with broken paws; men with broken hearts, they all have one thing in common: they're all as sure to die as those unbroken.