I could watch her dance for hours, Because she's always dancing inside of my heart.

Your eyes are hallow, Your heart is bruised, Your temple has been raided, Your soul has been shattered, Was he worth it?

He danced across my heart like a pirate, Constantly discovering my secrets, Turning over every hidden treasure, Drowning me in his fantasy.

You said this was only the beginning, I didn't realize that meant starting a new chapter without you as part of my story.

Perhaps fate brought us together, And the incidents in between made us close, Falling in love was a simple choice, But breaking my heart, that was yours.

My lips still quiver when I think about her smile.

It's true what they say, Love is a wicked game, A game so wickedly played, I am at your command in your wicked games.

The greatest help oft comes in harm's disguise, to those with trusting hearts and open eyes.

In this way Fate outplayed the efforts of mortals-simply to amuse itself, one might think.

I’m clinging to one last thought: pain is the harbinger of hope. You have to be alive to feel pain. If you are alive, then you have purpose. If you have purpose, then you have hope.

Perhaps the best hope for the future of mankind is that ways will be found of increasing the scope and intensity of sympathy.

It can certainly happen that characters in more sophisticated stories can "take over" as they develop and change the author's original ideas. Well, it certainly happens to me at times.

The fact that so many people whose livelihood depends on being able to play, it's just crazy.

The holocaust against the unborn is the greatest sin they could ever do or even ever participate in.

The terror drifted over georgetown like the sun over a blind mans eyes