I have good friends who listen to me for hours, the walls of my room

I don't believe in your version of love, I have my own

You are an artist, I am an artist, all the people around you and me are artists. Don't try to hide your scars, highlight them with the brush and you'll become an attractive piece of art

As soon as he closed the door of his room, The sadness came out of the walland asked"Where were you all the day

While you are laughing madly, There is someone crying inside you

No one else, but the silence of the night cried with me

I am scared of this emptiness, pull me out of my body

Some people love me for being odd, and some want to kill me for the same reason

The silence is becoming more poisonous and I have no one to talk with, not even my own self

You haven't written anything about me yet!" She said in a complaining wayHe replied in a sorrowful tone "I wish you could read my unwritten poems

In the end, what will you fight for-- what got there first, what got there last or what has been there all along?

If you wish for pearls, pray always.

A friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of nature.

HE didn't realize she was his everything until he gave her up for everything else.

Neither a borrower nor a lender be for loan oft loses both itself and friend and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.

Universal access to human knowledge is in our grasp, for the first time in the history of the world. This is not a bad thing.

I have no doubt about it. I think this is a part of the nature of man, a desire for freedom, for dignified life.

I think there are several aspects of our marraige we're going to have to work on." "Babes," he told her. "You're dead." "That's one of those aspects, obviously.

Well, I screwed it up real good, didn't I?

I actually have a closet that's all shoes, maybe 700 pairs.