You think you’ve seen her naked because she took her clothes off? Tell me about her dreams. Tell me what breaks her heart. What is she passionate about, and what makes her cry? Tell me about her childhood. Better yet, tell me one story about her that you’re not in.   You’ve seen her skin, and you’ve touched her body. But you still know as much about her as a book you once found, but never got around to opening.

My voice is in tune with a different language, another kind of music. It speaks of resistance, indignation, the just anger of those who are deceived and betrayed. It speaks, too, of the right to rebel against the ethical transgressions of which they are the long-suffering victims.

He didn’t shake her hand, he didn’t kiss her forehead, he barely said anything, but everything in him was embracing her.

I am eternally, devastatingly romantic, and I thought people would see it because ‘romantic’ doesn’t mean 'sugary.’ It’s dark and tormented — the furor of passion, the despair of an idealism that you can’t attain.

Find ecstasy within yourself. It is not out there. It is in your innermost flowering. The one you are looking for is you.

“Date someone who sleeps on your chest and snores in your ear. Date someone who’ll be your Friday night and your entire Saturday. Date someone who is proud of you. Date someone who only makes you cry of laughter. Date someone who isn’t afraid to love everything about you. Find someone who believes love is black and white; you either love someone or you don’t. There are so many mediocre things in life, love shouldn’t be one of them.”

Find ecstasy within yourself. It is not out there. It is in your innermost flowering. The one you are looking for is you.